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I  CALIFORNIA 

I      SAN  DtEGO  J 


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iamectcan  actor  §>cnes 


EDITED    BY     LAURENCE    HUTTON 


I 


^ 


-^i^pTi 


AMERICAN  ACTOR   SERIES 


EDWIN    FORREST 


BY 


LAWRENCE  BARRETT 


Wi\i\i  Ellustratujns 


BOSTON 

JAMES    R.  OSGOOD   AND   COMPANY 

l88l 


Copyright,  1881, 
By  James  R.  Osgood  and  Company. 


All  rigJUs  reserved. 


University  Press: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridgb. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    Prologue i 

II.    Early  Youth       8 

III.  The  Stroller 19 

IV.  New     Orleans.  —  New     York.  —  His 

First  Decided  Success 34 

V.    He  visits  Europe 44 

VI.    The  Astor  Place  Riot 58 

VII.    Domestic  Life 73 

VIII.    After   the   Trial.  —  Mrs.  Forrest's 

Professional  Life 83 

IX.  Maturity 94 

X.  His  California  Trip       107 

XI.     His  Last  Appearance 120 

XII.     Last  Scene  of  all 140 

XIII.    Epilogue 148 

Index 159 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Forrest  at  the  Age  of  Forty-Five    .       .     Frontispiece 
Forrest  at  the  Age  of  Twenty-One      ...        44 

Fac-Simile  of  London  Play-Bill S3 

Font-Hill 77 

Mrs.  Forrest 91 

Fac-Simile  of  Letter 132 

Forrest  "at  the  Age  of  Sixty-Five     ....  148 


EDWIN    FORREST. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PROLOGUE. 

A  SIMPLE  record  of  the  career  of  Edwin  Forrest 
will  be  an  instructive  study  to  the  men  and 
women  of  his  profession,  and  perhaps  may  prove  pleas- 
ing to  the  reader  for  whom  the  details  of  the  actor's 
life  have  interest.  This  record  should  be  \vritten  while 
there  are  those  living  who  can  remember  him  at  his 
first  appearance,  as  well  as  at  the  close  of  his  remark- 
able life,  that  errors  of  date  may  be  corrected,  and  a 
fair  and  approved  estimate  of  him  may  be  given  to 
posterity. 

While  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  exalt  him  as  perfec- 
tion, it  will  be  impossible  to  deny  that  he  had  great  and 
good  impulses,  and  an  aptitude  for  his  calling  beyond 
that  of  any  other  actor  of  his  time.  He  was,  moreover, 
essentially  an  American  actor,  —  the  first  great  one, — 
and  his  career  has  new  and  particular  interest  on  that 
account. 

Choosing  his  profession  in  early  boyhood,  Forrest 
achieved  a  great  fame  at  an  age  when  others  were  in 
the  alphabet  of  their  life-work.    He  passed  through  its 


2  EDWIN  FORREST. 

humble  stages  so  rapidly,  that  the  want  of  the  training 
which  only  gradual  and  regular  advancement  can  give 
was  evident  to  the  last  in  his  performances.  To  read 
the  words  of  loving  friends  and  enthusiastic  critics, 
published  since  his  death,  it  would  be  supposed  that 
his  progress  was  made  without  rivalry  or  opposition. 
But  this  is  not  the  fact.  Edwin  Forrest  came  upon  the 
stage  at  a  time  when  the  drama  in  America  was  in  the 
full  tide  of  success,  when  every  theatre  in  the  larger 
cities  could  boast  an  excellent  stock  company.  To 
have  distanced  such  men  as  John  R.  Scott,  David  In- 
gersoll,  Augustus  Addams,  Charles  Eaton,  Charles  Webb, 
and  James  E.  Murdoch,  was  a  victory  due  as  much  to  his 
personal  character  as  to  his  merits  as  an  actor.  The 
annals  of  the  stage  will  show  that  many  of  these  men 
enjoyed  a  reputation  equal,  and  in  some  cases  superior, 
to  that  of  Forrest.  That  he  came  to  the  front  at  last 
and  left  them  all  behind,  is  one  of  the  glories  of  which 
his  memory  should  not  be  deprived. 

The  condition  of  the  actor  at  the  time  of  the  debut 
of  Edwin  Forrest  was  singularly  happy  as  well  as  singu- 
larly unfortunate.  The  lovers  of  the  drama  who  filled 
the  theatre  when  the  old  plays  were  presented  could 
not  show  their  regard  for  their  favorites  more  effectu- 
ally, so  they  imagined,  than  by  inviting  them  to  social 
meetings,  where  indulgence  became  the  ruin  of  some 
of  the  brightest  intellects  of  that  day.  Many  had  fallen 
about  him,  and  with  such  examples  Forrest  had  the 
strength  and  the  wisdom  to  shape  his  course  by  a  safer 
guide  than  that  which  his  gifted  fellows  had  so  blindly 
chosen. 


PROLOGUE.  3 

His  more  thoughtful  admirers  have  pronounced  his 
style  entirely  original,  —  a  word  so  often  misapplied  in 
theatrical  criticism  that  it  has  deceived  many  readers. 
If  to  be  original  means  that  the  player  must  adopt  an 
absolutely  new  style  of  acting,  create  new  and  hitherto 
unattempted,  undreamed-of  situations  in  the  standard 
old  plays,  and  present  them  in  a  shape  unlike  that  in 
which  they  had  previously  been  given,  then  there  can 
be  no  such  thing  as  an  original  actor.  The  so-called 
"  business  "  of  nearly  all  the  commonly  acted  plays 
has  been  handed  down  through  generations  of  actors, 
amended  and  corrected  in  many  cases  by  each  per- 
former, but  never  radically  changed.  New  readings  of 
certain  passages  have  been  substituted  for  old,  but  the 
traditional  "  points "  have  been  preserved ;  personal 
characteristics  and  physical  peculiarities  finding  ample 
freedom  of  expression  within  the  old  rulings  of  each 
play.  Styles  of  acting,  too,  have  changed  as  little  as 
the  "  business  "  of  the  drama. 

There  have  been  three  methods  of  acting,  and  only 
three,  upon  the  English  stage  since  the  restoration  of 
Charles  the  Second,  during  whose  reign  the  theatres 
were  reopened  in  England  after  their  long  night  of 
Puritanism.  These  have  been  illustrated  in  our  own 
time  by  Forrest,  Macready,  and  the  elder  Booth. 
Modifications  of  these  styles  have  been  seen ;  but  the 
groundwork  remains,  which  admits  of  space  for  indi- 
vidual freedom,  but  denies  complete  independence  of 
the  old  forms.  At  times  one  style  has  prevailed,  at 
others  its  rival ;  and  the  claim  of  originality  which  one 
generation  of  play-goers  has  set  up  for  its  favorite  has 


4  EDWIN  FORREST. 

arisen  from  the  misfortune  which  yields  to  the  actor 
only  the  recollection  of  his  work  during  the  hour  of  its 
performance,  so  that  he  cannot  fairly  be  judged  by 
those  who  have  not  seen  and  known  him  on  the  stage. 
The  generation  that  witnessed  the  advent  of  Edmund 
Kean  knew  not  that  his  school  was  that  of  Garrick, 
dead  then  less  than  half  a  century.  The  method  of 
Edwin  Forrest,  on  the  other  hand,  dates  even  farther 
back :  through  the  Kembles  to  Betterton  and  Barton 
Booth,  and  perhaps  to  the  same  source  through  Cooper, 
with  whom  he  played,  and  whose  acting  was  undoubt- 
edly that  upon  which  his  own  style  was  based,  for  it 
was  charged  against  him,  in  his  early  years,  that  he  was 
a  servile  copyist  of  this  great  artist,  —  a  statement  as 
false  and  groundless  as  that  of  his  entire  originality. 

A  glance  at  the  condition  of  the  theatre  at  the  time 
of  Edwin  Forrest's  appearance  will  reveal  how  much  he 
gained  from  those  who  preceded  him,  and  how  much 
he  added  to  the  splendor  of  the  stage  and  its  traditions. 
This  will  properly  preface  the  story  of  his  life. 

The  impulse  given  to  the  drama  in  America  by  the 
genius  of  the  actors  who  crossed  the  Atlantic  to  our 
own  shores  at  the  close  of  the  last  century  had  not 
been  exhausted  when  Forrest  came  upon  the  stage. 
Many  of  those  artists,  who  had  been  educated  in  the 
best  of  the  great  English  circuits,  were  veterans  at  this 
time ;  and  the  eager  eyes  of  the  young  Forrest  might 
nightly  see  such  men  as  Maywood,  Jefferson,  Warren, 
and  Wood  in  the  regular  stock,  while  such  meteors  as 
Cooper  and  Cooke  occasionally  flashed  across  the 
theatrical  firmament.    The  character  of  the  plays  deter- 


PROLOGUE.  5 

mined  the  style  of  the  actor.  All  the  traditions  of  the 
stage  were  in  the  possession  of  these  gifted  men  and 
women,  and  Forrest  could  see  his  own  beloved  "  Lear  " 
acted  in  the  original  text,  and  with  all  the  stage  busi- 
ness, which  had  been  handed  down  through  generations 
of  performers,  perhaps  direct  from  Richard  Burbage, 
who  had  listened  to  the  master  himself  in  that  dim  old 
theatre  which  stood  beside  the  Thames. 

In  Forrest's  early  days  it  was  the  fashion  to  admire 
the  grand  works  of  the  old  dramadsts;  and  modem 
sensational  plays  were  yet  unborn.  Each  piece  was 
cast  to  the  full  strength  of  the  company,  and  no  actor 
was  considered  too  good  for  his  part,  however  humble 
it  might  be.  Each  year  brought  the  same  order  of 
plays,  varied  only  by  a  revival,  perhaps,  of  one  of  the 
less  familiar  old  tragedies  or  comedies,  such  as  "  Every 
Man  in  his  Humor  "  or  "  The  Fatal  Dowry."  Thus 
the  play-goer  became  acquainted  not  only  with  the 
manner  of  the  old  actors,  but  with  the  very  text  of  the 
plays  themselves.  The  best  qualities  of  the  drama  in 
the  mother-country  had  been  transplanted  to  a  fresher 
and  more  vigorous  soil,  and  the  harvest  was  reaped  in 
a  group  of  players  unsurpassed  for  talent  in  any  age 
of  the  theatre. 

Although  the  accessories  of  the  stage  were  still  poor 
and  mean,  the  audiences  were  recompensed  by  the 
genius  of  the  actors,  who  could  fire  the  imagination 
and  eke  out  the  illusion  even  in  face  of  the  many  dis- 
advantages by  which  they  were  siurounded.  Mr.  For- 
rest never  fully  escaped  from  the  influences  of  that  era. 
To  the  last  he  adhered  to  many  of  the  prejudices  then 


6  EDWIN  FORREST. 

formed,  scorning  all  the  appliances  by  which  modern 
ingenuity  has  embellished  the  theatre.  He  was  fond 
of  referring  to  the  days  of  Shakspere  himself,  when  a 
bit  of  rudely  painted  canvas,  stretched  from  side  to 
side  of  the  stage,  upon  which  was  scrawled,  "  This  is  a 
house,"  "  This  is  a  wood,"  represented  the  sum  of  the 
theatre's  stock  of  scenery.  He  was  wont  to  declare 
that  in  those  blessed  days  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
to  be  an  actor,  as  no  aid  from  without  was  known  or 
dreamed  of. 

In  one  of  his  later  travelling  experiences  he  reached 
a  small  town  where  the  stage  appliances  were  beneath 
contempt,  and  where  this  theory  of  his  might  find  a 
test.  His  manager  feared  to  tell  him  how  meagre  were 
the  scenes  which  must  represent  Elsinore ;  but  as  night 
approached  he  was  forced,  of  course,  to  speak.  He 
had  hung  two  American  flags  at  the  stage  openings, 
and  these  represented  drop  curtains  as  well  as  palace, 
platform,  chamber,  and  castle.  Instead  of  anger  and 
annoyance,  Forrest  only  smiled  as  he  saw  these  prepa- 
rations, and  he  declared  that  nothing  could  be  better. 
He  would  show  the  audience  that  "  Hamlet "  could  be 
played  in  that  foreign  frame  with  none  of  its  powers 
shorn  or  weakened,  while  his  own  patriotism  would 
stimulate  his  energies,  as  his  eyes  rested  on  the  banners 
of  his  native  land. 

In  enumerating  the  influences  under  which  Edwin 
Forrest  entered  the  theatre,  we  should  not  omit  to 
name  that  which  lay  in  the  familiar  good-fellowship  of 
the  old  actors.  They  did  not  always  put  off  with  the 
garb  the  cheerfulness  or  the  sociability  of  the  character 


PROLOGUE.  7 

they  had  lately  been  enacting.  Falstaff  often  carried 
into  private  life  the  habits  and  characteristics  of  his 
stage  existence,  the  line  of  identity  and  assumption  not 
always  being  very  clearly  drawn. 

Our  young  player,  who  had  aheady  tasted  the  delicious 
sweets  of  an  amateur  triumph,  was  able  to  learn  from 
the  gracious  lips  of  older  actors  incidents  of  their 
bright  lives,  which  opened  now  and  then  to  his  gaze  a 
tempting  vista  down  which  his  own  future  glory  might. 
be  discerned.  As  so  much  of  stage  knowledge  is 
conventional  and  unwritten,  especially  in  the  earlier  and 
mechanical  outlines,  such  an  experience  was  of  great 
value  to  the  youth  who  was  soon  to  appear  as  Young 
Norval,  and  create  an  impression  so  profound  that  the 
after-glories  of  the  actor's  life  seemed  poor  beside  that 
boyish  success. 

With  a  tender  farewell  to  those  heroes  of  the  past 
whose  example  did  so  much  to  mould  the  early  career 
of  Edwin  Forrest,  we  may  now  turn  to  the  events  of  the 
life  upon  the  threshold  of  which  we  have  perhaps  lin- 
gered too  long. 


EDWIN  FORREST. 


CHAPTER    II. 


EARLY   YOUTH. 


EDWIN  FORREST  \vas  bom  in  the  city  of  Phila- 
delphia, March  9,  1806.  His  father,  a  Scotch- 
man, had  emigrated  to  this  country  during  the  last 
year  of  the  preceding  century.  His  calling  was  that 
of  an  importer  of  Scotch  fabrics.  He  married,  in 
1795,  Rebecca  Lauman,  a  lady  of  German  descent  on 
both  sides,  but  of  American  birth.  Of  this  marriage 
seven  children  were  bom,  the  eldest  of  whom  died  in 
infancy.  Of  the  six  who  lived  to  maturity,  three  were 
boys,  three  girls  ;  and  their  names  are  here  given  in  the 
order  of  their  birth,  —  Lauman,  Henrietta,  William, 
Caroline,  Edwin,  Eleanora.  Thus  the  subject  of  this 
memoir  was  the  last  of  the  sons,  the  youngest  but  one 
of  the  family.  The  father,  William  Forrest,  having 
been  unsuccessful  in  business,  became  a  servant  of  the 
United  States  Bank,  where  he  remained  until  the  closing 
of  that  institution.  He  was  then  employed  by  Stephen 
Girard,  in  the  Girard  Bank,  in  which  service  he  died  in 
18 19,  of  consumption,  aged  sixty-two  years.  He  had 
accumulated  nothing  in  the  way  of  worldly  wealth,  and 
left  only  his  own  good  name  as  a  legacy  for  his  chil- 
dren.   The  burden  of  life  and  labor  thus  abmptly  laid 


EARLY  YOUTH.  9 

down  was  at  once  taken  up  by  the  widow,  who  gave 
instant  proof  of  her  ability  by  the  faithful  support  of 
her  family  under  the  trying  conditions  of  poverty,  and 
the  affliction  which  his  loss  entailed.  She  was  a  woman 
of  great  strength  of  character,  of  unusual  firmness,  and, 
withal,  of  a  loving,  affectionate  nature.  Such  mothers 
are  always  to  be  found  at  the  starting-point  of  every 
great  man's  career.  Opening  a  small  shop,  she  soon 
succeeded  in  gaining  sufficient  income  for  their  joint 
support,  while  she  was  thoughtful  enough  to  place  her 
growing  boys  in  situations  where  they  might  aid  in  the 
task  of  providing  for  the  fold.  There  were  to  be  no 
drones  in  that  hive,  and  the  industry  of  the  mother  ani- 
mated the  spirits  of  the  children.  Our  business  lies 
with  the  youth  whose  name  heads  these  pages.  We 
leave  the  others,  to  follow  Edwin  Forrest.  Our  path 
will  lead  us  back  to  them  again,  as  we  pass  along,  and 
we  may  dismiss  them  now. 

Before  the  death  of  the  father,  and  while  actual  want 
was  still  unknown  in  the  unpretending  home,  the  chil- 
dren were  sent  to  school,  and  their  future  laid  out  by 
the  wisdom  of  both  parents.  Edwin,  like  many  others 
of  his  profession,  was  designed  for  the  ministry,  and  as 
the  lad  early  developed  certain  qualities  which  are  sup- 
posed to  point  directly  to  that  honorable  "pursuit,  the 
choice  of  the  parents  seemed  approved  by  Providence. 
Before  the  age  of  eleven,  the  future  Channing  had  at- 
tracted admiring  listeners  by  the  music  of  his  voice 
and  by  the  aptness  of  his  mimicry.  Those  qualities 
were  developed  chiefly  in  the  repeating  of  such  wise 
words  as  fell  firom  the  lips  of  his  teacher  and  fi-iend, 


lO  EDWIN  FORREST. 

Father  Pilmore,  an  eminent  divine  for  whom  Edwin 
Forrest  entertained  a  lifelong  reverence. 

The  boy's  memory  was  remarkable.  He  could  re- 
cite whole  passages  of  his  preceptor's  sermons.  Perched 
upon  a  chair  or  stool,  crowned  with  the  proud  approval 
of  family  and  friends,  the  young  mimic  filled  the  hearts 
of  his  listeners  with  fervent  hope  of  his  coming  success 
in  the  fold  of  their  beloved  church.  These  hopes  were 
destined  to  be  met  with  disappointment.  The  bias  of 
the  future  leader  of  the  American  stage  was  only  faintly 
outlined  as  yet :  his  hour  of  development  was  still  to  come. 

The  anecdotes  of  his  early  years  are  meagre  and  un- 
interesting. We  may  be  sure  he  did  not  escape  the 
hard  rubs  with  which  boyhood  prepares  the  ground  for 
the  struggles  of  manhood.  We  have  reports  of  en- 
counters wherein  the  victory  was  his,  though  not  ob- 
tained without  sanguinary  marks  of  the  conflict,  showing 
how  near  defeat  the  conqueror  had  been.  In  the  early 
wordy  preliminaries  of  these  bouts  we  hear  of  such 
expressions  as  would  have  shocked  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pil- 
more, and  made  the  staid  mother  blush  for  her  son's 
future ;  adjectives  which,  however  they  may  emphasize 
passion,  are  still  not  pleasant  to  record.  Edwin  For- 
rest's youth  was  that  of  nearly  all  city  lads  whose  par- 
ents are  too  poor  to  provide  watchful  guards  over  the 
companions  of  their  children. 

He  must  have  learned  early  the  road  to  the  theatre, 
—  permitted  to  go  by  the  family,  or  going,  perhaps, 
without  the  knowledge  or  consent  of  his  seniors  in  the 
overworked  household ;  for  before  he  had  passed  his 
tenth  year  our  young  sermonizer  and  street  champion 


EARLY  YOUTH.  II 

was  a  member  of  a  juvenile  Thespian  club,  and  before 
eleven  he  had  made  his  appearance  at  one  of  the  regu- 
lar theatres,  in  the  rble  of  a  female.  In  the  habiliments 
of  the  weaker  sex,  adorned  for  the  play  by  unskilful 
hands,  in  such  gamients  as  could  be  collected  hastily 
and  secretly  from  several  sources,  which  covered  a  fig- 
ure always  the  reverse  of  feminine,  and  were  worn  in  a 
manner  far  removed  from  the  dainty  grace  belonging  to 
such  robes,  our  hero  came  from  behind  the  scenes  for 
his  debut ;  no  doubt  with  a  palpitation  of  heart  suitable 
to  his  disguise,  but  in  no  other  way  belonging  to  his 
rble.  His  reception  was  a  shriek  of  laughter  which 
drowned  his  efforts  to  speak.  His  grotesque  appear- 
ance convulsed  the  audience,  accustomed  even  to  am- 
ateur atrocities  of  a  kindred  nature  ;  and,  after  a  vain 
attempt  to  arrange  a  hostile  meeting  with  a  boy  in  the 
pit  whom  he  had  especially  observed  as  one  of  his  most 
conspicuous  critics,  he  was  hustled  ignominiously  from 
the  scene,  to  weep  with  rage  over  his  defeat,  and  no 
doubt  to  attribute  his  failure  to  the  unappreciative  pub- 
lic, always  the  criminal  in  such  cases.  His  first  ex- 
perience had  taught  him,  at  least,  that  his  genius  lay 
not  in  the  line  of  feminine  characters.  He  returned  to 
the  private  station  from  which  he  had  thus  emerged 
considerably  chagrined,  and  with  deep  regret  that  he 
had  not  "  had  it  out "  with  his  loud-voiced  enemy  in 
front  of  the  stage. ' 

His  devotion  to  the  drama  was  not  permitted  to  in- 
terfere with  his  home  duties.  He  had  been  regularly 
apprenticed  successively  to  a  printer,  a  cooper,  and  a 
ship-chandler  before  the  age  of  thirteen ;  but  we  have  no 


12  EDWIN  FORREST. 

record  of  his  services,  or  the  date  of  their  continuance, 
in  any  of  these  unpoetical  callings.  We  may  be  sure  his 
happiness  lay  in  the  evasion  of  his  work  whenever  he 
could  steal  a  visit  to  the  shrine  where  his  beloved  Thes- 
pis  reigned  supreme.  He  soon  outgrew  the  ignominy 
of  his  first  failure,  and  again  and  again  sought  to  over- 
come the  disgrace  by  a  fresh  appearance.  To  his  ap- 
peals the  irate  manager  lent  a  deaf  ear ;  he  had  not 
forgotten  the  disaster  of  that  eventful  night,  and  did  not 
desire  to  see  it  repeated.  The  sacred  portals  that  led 
to  the  enchanted  ground  of  the  stage  were  closed  against 
young  Forrest,  the  warden  being  instructed  not  to  let  the 
importunate  boy  pass  the  door.  At  last,  in  desperation, 
he  resolved  to  storm  the  citadel,  to  beat  down  the 
faithful  guard,  and  to  carry  the  war  into  the  enemy's 
camp.  One  night  he  dashed  past  the  astonished  guar- 
dian of  the  stage  entrance  just  as  the  curtain  fell  upon 
one  of  the  acts  of  a  play.  He  emerged  before  the  foot- 
lights, eluding  all  pursuit,  dressed  as  a  harlequin ;  and 
before  the  audience  had  recovered  from  its  astonish- 
ment at  this  scene  not  set  down  in  the  bills,  the  baffled, 
but  not  subdued,  aspirant  had  delivered  the  lines  of  an 
epilogue  in  rhyme  with  so  much  effect  that,  before  he 
could  be  seized  by  the  astounded  stage  manager  and 
hurled  from  the  theatre,  he  had  attracted  public  notice, 
successfully  won  his  surprised  audience,  and  not  only 
secured  immunity  from  punishment  for  his  temerity,  but 
actually  gained  that  respect  in  the  manager's  estimation 
which  he  had  so  long  and  so  vainly  striven  to  acquire. 

Forrest  had  made  a  reputation  as  a  mimic  among  his 
fellows,  before  whom  he  was  often  called  upon  to  show 


EARLY  YOUTH.  1 3 

his  skill.  He  was  especially  noted  for  his  recital  of 
Goldsmith's  epilogue,  beginning, — 

"  Hold,  Prompter,  hold  I " 

These  performances  took  place  in  a  small  bam  or  loft 
hastily  improvised  for  the  use  of  the  lad  and  his  com- 
panions. Edwin  was  regarded  as  the  chief  of  this  youth- 
ful histrionic  band,  not  only  on  account  of  his  superior 
ability,  but  because  of  his  already  powerflil  physique, 
and  a  certain  awe  which  his  manner  inspired  in  the 
breasts  of  his  associates.  He  knew  more  of  the  world 
than  they,  and  was  the  envied  possessor  of  an  awful 
knowledge  to  which  they  could  not  pretend.  He  had 
seen  the  sacred  domain  of  the  theatre  in  all  its  myste- 
rious glory,  not  only  as  an  auditor,  but  as  an  actor  as 
well.  He  had  even  stood  erect  in  the  presence  of  some 
of  those  great  ones  whose  names  adorned  the  play-bills, 
and  were  such  marvels  to  the  eyes  of  the  young  and 
the  uninitiated.  This  is  a  period  in  the  life  of  Forrest 
which  nearly  all  boys  reared  in  cities  can  recall ;  for 
who  has  not  passed  through  the  first  awful  but  delicious 
mysteries  of  the  play-bill,  the  theatre,  the  performance  ? 
Who  has  not,  under  the  youthful  roundabout,  felt  his 
heart  stirred  by  the  boyish  associations  of  the  drama  ? 

The  power  to  attract  attention  by  his  recitations  meet- 
ing with  encouragement  in  such  humble  surroundings, 
the  young  actor  soon  sought  out  opportunities  on  a 
larger  platform  and  before  more  critical  hearers.  At  a 
public  exhibition  of  the  effects  of  oxide  gas  he  was 
asked  by  the  exhibitor  to  become  the  medium  of  illus- 
tration.    He  consented  eagerly.    Under  its  effect  he 


14  EDWIN  FORREST. 

dashed  wildly  into  one  of  the  soliloquies  of  "  Richard  the 
Third,"  and  had  wellnigh  ranted  the  whole  of  the  tent 
scene,  until  where  Richard,  alarmed  by  the  shouts  of  his 
murdered  victims,  cries  out,  "  Give  me  another  horse ; 
bind  up  my  wounds,"  when,  the  effects  of  the  gas  pass- 
ing suddenly  away,  the  speaker  awoke  to  find  himself 
deafened  by  the  plaudits  of  an  audience  which  was  sur- 
prised and  delighted  by  the  unexpected  performance. 

This  incident  made  an  impression  upon  the  cele- 
brated lawyer,  John  Swift,  who  at  once  took  an  interest 
in  the  lad,  and  was  instrumental  in  shaping  his  career. 
By  his  aid  Forrest  was  promised  an  appearance  at  the 
Walnut  Street  Theatre,  then  one  of  the  leading  theatres 
of  the  country.  Many  difficulties  had  to  be  overcome 
before  the  efforts  of  Mr.  Swift  were  successful.  Wood 
and  Warren,  the  veteran  managers,  had  been  unhappy 
in  their  debutants,  none  of  whom  had  gained  a  perma- 
nent footing ;  but  the  kindly  interest  of  his  patron  pre- 
vailed at  last  against  the  prejudices  of  the  managers,  and 
the  opportunity  to  appear  was  offered.  He  selected 
Young  Nerval,  in  Home's  tragedy  of  "  Douglas,"  then 
the  crucial  test  by  which  many  a  young  beginner  essayed 
the  favor  of  an  audience. 

Supported  by  the  kindness  of  t^vo  friends,  —  Mr.  S. 
K.  Levin,  a  liquor  merchant,  and  Edwin  A.  Carpenter, 
a  grocer,  —  he  was  enabled  to  receive  some  preliminary 
teaching  in  elocution  from  Lemuel  G.  White,  a  distin- 
guished professor  in  that  branch  of  the  dramatic  art. 
Mr.  White  had  himself  hoped  to  be  an  actor,  but  had 
failed  on  several  occasions  to  secure  an  engagement. 
He  was  a  devoted  believer  in  the  Garrick-Kean  school. 


EARLY  YOUTH.  1 5 

—  the  natural  school,  so  called,  —  as  opposed  to  the 
declamatory  or  artificial  method,  of  which  the  Kembles 
were  the  exponents  in  our  century.  ^  James  E.  Mur- 
doch, the  most  gifted  elocutionist  and  the  most  charm- 
ing high  comedian  of  his  day,  and  David  IngersoU, 
"  the  silver  tongued,"  were  among  the  noted  scholars 
of  this  master. 

The  long-hoped-for  night  had  come  at  last.  All  the 
hours  which  had  led  to  this  supreme  one  were  over, 
and  their  anxieties  and  hopes  put  by,  to  make  room  for 
an  event  the  greatest,  so  far,  in  the  life  of  the  youth  of 
whom  we  are  writing.  The  aid  of  friends,  their  sup- 
port and  encouragement,  the  teaching  of  White,  the 
experience  gained  in  all  the  good  performances  he  had 
seen,  in  all  the  poor  ones  he  had  himself  given,  had 
only  been  preparatory  to  this  auspicious  night,  —  the 
27th  of  November,  1820. 

The  theatre  was  filled  by  an  audience  eager  to  welcome 
a  genius,  but  critical  and  severe  to  reprove  impudent 
assumption.  The  future  Master  of  the  American  Stage, 
then  fourteen  years  of  age,  —  a  boy  in  years,  a  man  in 
character,  —  announced  as  "  A  young  Gentleman  of  this 
City,"  surrounded  by  a  group  of  veteran  actors  who  had 
for  many  years  shared  the  favor  of  the  public,  began  a 
career  which  was  as  auspicious  at  its  opening  as  it  was 
splendid  in  its  maturity.  White  had  characterized  the 
lad  as  hobbledehoy  on  first  seeing  him,  and  felt  doubt- 
ful of  his  success ;  but  he  gave  no  sign  of  awkwardness 
now,  —  the  pupil  was  worthy  of  his  master.  At  his  en- 
trance he  won  the  vast  audience  at  once  by  the  grace 
of  his  figure,  and  the  modest  bearing  which  was  natural 
to  him.    Something  of  that  magnetism  which  he  ex- 


1 6  EDWIN  FORREST. 

ercised  so  effectively  in  later  years,  now  attracted  all 
who  heard  him,  and  made  friends  even  before  he  spoke. 
In  the  scenes  of  tenderness  with  his  mother,  his  melt- 
ing voice  went  to  every  heart,  and  won  for  him  the 
tribute  of  tears ;  in  the  scenes  of  tumult  and  defi- 
ance his  proud  spirit  soared  to  a  surprising  height,  and 
the  rapturous  applause  which  followed  testified  to  his 
power;  and  when  the  last  dying  exclamation  of  the 
so-long-orphaned  Norval  fell  upon  the  ears  of  his 
mother,  all  the  pent-up  feelings  of  the  assemblage  gave 
way  to  a  torrent  of  approbation,  which  called  the  blush- 
ing youth  before  the  curtain,  covered  him  with  the  glory 
of  resounding  cheers,  and  filled  his  heart  with  those 
glad  sounds  for  which  the  actor  lives  and  endures  the 
trials  of  his  lot. 

William  B.  Wood,  in  his  "  Personal  Recollections 
of  the  Stage,"  published  in  1854,  gives  the  cast  of 
"  Douglas  "  on  this  occasion  in  full.  It  is  worthy  of 
preservation  here :  — 

Douglas  (Young  Norval)      ....  Edwin  Forrest. 

Lord  Randolph Frederick  Wheatley. 

Glenalvon William  B.  Wood. 

Old  Norval William  Warren. 

Lady  Randolph Mrs.  H.  A.  Williams. 

Anna Mrs.  Joseph  Jefferson. 

Mrs.  Williams  is  better  remembered  as  Mrs.  Robert 
Maywood ;  Frederick  Wheatley  was  the  father  of  Wil- 
liam and  Emma  Wheatley  (Mrs.  Mason)  ;  William 
Warren  was  the  father  of  William  Waxren,  so  well 
known  in  Boston  to-day ;  and  Mrs.  Jefferson  was  the 
grandmother  of  the  present  Joseph  Jefferson. 

It  seems  incredible  that  Edwin  Forrest  was  only  four- 


EARLY    YOUTir.  1/ 

teen  years  old  at  this  time.  So  much  experience 
had  been  his,  so  much  had  been  accomplished,  that 
it  appears  more  than  likely  that  William  Wood  was 
right  when  he  said  that  the  debutant  was  "  sixteen 
years  of  age."  Even  adding  these  disputed  years  to 
his  life,  we  have  a  marvel  of  achievement  without  a 
parallel.  He  was  yet  to  pass  through  a  severe  experi- 
ence before  gaining  a  fixed  place  upon  the  stage  ;  but 
he  had  demonstrated  his  fitness,  he  had  proved  his 
claim  to  merit,  and  convinced  his  friends  of  the  metal 
that  was  in  him. 

Still  retaining  his  place  in  his  shop,  Forrest  de- 
voted his  spare  hours  to  study,  imder  the  advice  and 
direction  of  wise  friends.  He  was  allowed  to  reappear, 
December  2^'Cci,ia&  Frederick,  in  "  Lovers'  Vows,"  repeat- 
ing his  first  success ;  and  on  the  8th  of  January,  1 821,  he 
benefited  as  Odavian,  in  "  The  Mountaineers,"  a  play 
associated  with  the  early  glories  of  Edmund  Kean.  In 
this  year,  also,  he  made  his  first  and  only  venture  as  a 
manager,  boldly  taking  the  Prune  Street  Theatre  and 
giving  a  successful  performance  of  Richard  the  Third, 
which  not  only  pleased  the  audience,  but  brought  him 
in  a  few  dollars  of  profit.  He  made  many  attempts  to 
secure  a  regular  engagement  in  one  of  the  Western 
circuits,  where  experience  could  be  gained,  and  at  last, 
after  many  denials,  he  was  employed  by  Collins  and 
Jones  to  play  leading  juvenile  parts  in  their  theatres  in 
Pittsburg,  Cincinnati,  and  Lexington.  Thus,  at  the  age 
of  sixteen  or  eighteen,  Edwin  Forrest  enrolled  himself 
as  a  regular  member  of  a  theatrical  company,  and  broke 
loose  firom  trade  forever. 


l8  EDWIN  FORREST. 

Glancing  back  over  this  part  of  his  life,  we  must  stop 
to  mark  how  persistent  was  the  forward  progress,  how 
unfaltering  the  purpose,  and  how  steady  the  stride  to- 
wards fame  and  success  of  the  young  ship-chandler's 
apprentice.  He  had  a  good  common-school  educa- 
tion, nothing  more  ;  but  a  brave  heart,  an  iron  will,  and 
impulses  which  struggled  towards  the  highest  in  all  his 
aims.  He  had  already  gained  the  friendship  of  such 
men  as  John  Swift,  and  Alexander  Wilson  the  cele- 
brated ornithologist,  who  took  a  deep  interest  in  the 
struggling  lad,  and  gave  him  aid  and  encouragement. 
He  had  not  permitted  his  bias  for  the  theatre  to  inter- 
fere with  the  duty  which  bound  him  to  do  his  share  in 
providing  for  the  family  left  destitute  by  his  father's 
death.  He  was  a  good  son  to  a  noble  mother,  and 
a  good  brother  to  his  other  kin,  while  his  soul  chafed 
against  the  bars  which  shut  him  out  from  his  true 
career,  and  tied  him  to  the  desk  where  his  galling 
routine  lay.  ^is  achievements  were  already  of  no 
mean  order,  as  we  have  seen.  He  had  laid  the  foun- 
dations of  his  future  career  with  much  sagacity,  and 
gave  every  assurance  that  the  boy  would  become  the 
father  of  the  man. 

Although  he  had  disappointed  the  fond  anticipations 
of  his  mother,  who  had  in  fancy  seen  her  beloved 
son  in  priest's  orders,  she  must  have  found  solace  in 
the  conviction  that  one  who  had  so  properly  carried 
out  the  duties  of  a  son  must  of  necessity  be  guided 
towards  the  right,  however  wide  of  his  parents'  plans 
his  career  might  be. 


THE    STROLLER.  1 9 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  STROLLER. 


BIDDING  farewell  to  home  and  family,  to  friends 
and  companions,  Edwin  Forrest  crossed  the 
Alleghany  Mountains  to  begin  at  Pittsburg,  in  October, 
1822,  the  serious  business  of  his  hfe.  His  path,  which 
hitherto  had  lain  along  pleasant  places,  was  now  to 
widen  into  that  crowded  thoroughfare  where  man  jostles 
man  in  the  struggle  for  the  goal,  and  along  which  are 
strewn  the  bodies  of  the  many  who  faint  and  fall  by  the 
way.  His  endowments  were  youth,  good  health,  high 
spirits,  and  a  superb  physique,  —  qualities  essential  to 
success  in  any  calling,  but  particularly  so  in  the  race 
for  histrionic  honors.  He  had  seen  the  best  models, 
he  had  sat  at  the  feet  of  the  greatest  masters  of  his  art 
then  known  in  any  land ;  he  had  tasted  the  sweets  of 
popularity  eariy,  and  had  found  savor  therein.  He 
was  now  to  set  out  upon  a  new  venture.  The  amateur 
had  filled  his  cup  of  happiness  with  the  admiration 
which  is  spontaneously  given  ;  he  had  gained  thunders 
of  applause  for  his  unpaid  labors,  but  was  now  to  begin 
his  work  in  earnest,  and  to  toil  for  bread.  He  was  des- 
tined to  find  his  honors  well  earned  ere  they  were 
gained,  his  bread  dearly  bought  before  it  reached  his 
lips. 


20  EDWIN  FORREST. 

The  life  of  a  strolling  player  in  1881  is  not  a  com- 
fortable one;  in  1821  it  must  have  been  simply  miser- 
able vagabondage,  where  the  stroller  shared  with  the 
gypsy  the  shelter  of  the  hedge,  with  the  beggar  some- 
times the  broken  crust ;  where  cuffs  and  stripes  and  sor- 
rows were  plenty,  and  God's  sunny  blessings  few  and  far 
between.  If  we  could  look  into  the  theatre  in  which 
Forrest's  professional  life  began,  we  would  see  no  such 
temple  as  that  which  testifies  to  the  wealth,  the  culture, 
and  the  love  of  the  drama  shown  in  the  Pittsburg  of  to- 
day. In  1822  the  city  must  have  confined  its  theatrical 
desires  to  a  very  humble  abode  for  the  Muse  of  Tragedy, 
—  a  dark  and  dingy  place,  full  of  holes  and  corners, 
.where  old  shadows  lurked,  and  where  the  ghosts  of  the 
old  plays,  so  often  laid,  still  walked  and  moved  and  had 
their  shadowy  being. 

With  a  salary  of  eight  dollars  a  week,  Edwin  Forrest 
began  his  regular  stage  life  ;  opening  in  October,  1822,  as 
Yoimg  Norval  in  "  Douglas,"  that  respectably  dull,  old 
versified  story,  which  has  long  since  passed  into  oblivion 
as  an  acting  play,  and  is  to  be  found  only  in  the  collec- 
tions of  the  antiquarians  of  the  stage.  None  of  his 
companions  at  this  period  had  won  great  fame,  although 
many  of  them  were  excellent  actors,  and  the  company 
as  a  whole  was  more  than  commonly  good,  —  one  that 
would  compare  favorably  in  numbers  and  in  merit  with 
any  of  the  travelling  troupes  of  to-day.  During  the  jour- 
ney over  the  mountains,  Forrest  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Simon  Cameron,  then  a  youth  like  himself,  and 
formed  a  friendship  which  was  resumed  in  later  years, 
to  last  until  the  actor's  death.    This  intimacy  shows  the 


THE  STROLLER.  21 

hold  Forrest  was  beginning  to  take  upon  men  of  posi- 
tion and  intelligence.  Mutual  attraction  united  them, 
mutual  tastes  held  them  together. 

Of  this  brief  Pittsburg  season  we  know  nothing,  but 
we  may  surmise  that  it  brought  little  profit  to  the  man- 
agement, for  it  soon  came  to  an  end.  Forrest  had 
played  a  varied  list  of  parts,  ranging  from  broad  comedy 
to  high  tragedy,  and  in  all  of  them  had  given  signs  of 
great  promise.  Leaving  the  Iron  City,  the  little  band 
embarked  for  Cincinnati,  going  by  flat-boat  down  the 
Ohio  River,  —  a  journey  we  can  imagine  to  have  been 
made  cheerful  by  the  glad  youthful  spirits  of  the  young 
actor  and  his  companions,  to  whom  the  experiences 
were  so  new.  Exhilarated  by  the  influences  of  Nature, 
which  in  that  region  is  always  bountiful  of  her  blessings, 
and  enlivened  by  songs  and  glees  and  merry  tales,  re- 
peated under  the  noonday  sun  of  autumn  as  they 
drifted  along,  we  may  be  sure  that  the  hours  passed 
swiftly  and  joyously  by.  Always  a  good  raconteur  and 
mimic,  the  present  occasion  brought  out  all  the  best  re- 
sources of  the  young  wanderer.  Here  he  could  freely 
indulge  in  that  taste  for  comedy  which  always  has  been 
the  passion  of  every  tragedian  in  the  opening  of  his 
career,  and  in  the  display  of  those  comic  powers  that 
had  been  denied  him  before  the  foot-lights.  Past  fertile 
fields,  by  vine-clad  slopes  sunny  with  the  lustre  of  the 
grape,  halting  at  young  clearings,  the  abode  of  the  few 
who  had  come  from  the  wilderness  to  lay  the  comer- 
stones  of  future  cities  on  the  placid  bosom  of  the  broad 
Ohio,  this  freight  of  happy  souls  bore  onward,  light- 
hearted,  to  their  destination.     Many  a  night  when  all 


22  EDWIN  FORREST. 

his  companions  were  asleep,  and  all  the  laughter  hushed, 
the  lad  who  had  so  lately  left  his  mother's  side  be- 
thought him  of  that  mother  and  of  her  teachings,  and 
with  tearful  eyes  and  reverent  heart  he  knelt  in  prayer 
for  the  welfare  of  that  dear  absent  one,  asking  that  her 
spirit  might  be  with  her  wandering  son  in  all  his  jour- 
neyings,  and  that  her  precepts  might  never  be  neglected 
or  forgotten. 

Reaching  Maysville,  Kentucky,  after  many  days,  the 
little  band  landed,  and  with  their  precious  freight  of 
baggage-properties,  and  such  small  shreds  of  scenery  as 
they  used  to  transport  in  those  days  when  few  theatres 
were  decently  provided,  they  found  a  temple  waiting 
them  not  unlike  that  which  they  had  left ;  but  they  were 
greeted  by  the  warm  Kentucky  hearts  and  open  gen- 
erous hands  for  which  the  descendants  of  the  pioneers 
of  that  State  are  still  so  famous.  For  five  nights  the 
company  entertained  their  new  patrons,  Forrest  mak- 
ing many  friends  the  while,  and  then  went  to  Lexington, 
—  a  broader  field  and  more  distinguished  arena  than 
any  in  which  he  had  yet  appeared.  Lexington  was 
then,  as  now,  the  capital  centre  of  the  State.  An  in- 
telligent love  of  the  drama  has  ever  marked  the  people 
who  live  beyond  the  great  rivers  of  the  West.  Leading 
as  they  do,  during  a  large  part  of  the  year,  an  agricultu- 
ral life,  watching  carefully  their  great  landed  interests, 
they  find  time  nevertheless  for  reading  and  mental  en- 
joyment and  improvement,  and  great  pleasure  in  their 
occasional  visits  to  their  cities  and  the  theatres  they 
contain.  The  drama  has  always  been  their  chief  de- 
light, and  when  the  theatre  was  poorly  supported,  even 


THE  STROLLER.  23 

in  the  larger  and  older  cities  of  the  East,  the  principal 
towns  of  Kentucky,  Tennessee,  Alabama,  Louisiana,  and 
Georgia,  as  well  as  those  of  the  Carolinas,  sustained 
liberally  companies  of  a  high  order  of  excellence. 

Before  the  beauty  and  intelligence  of  Lexington 
Edwin  Forrest  now  appeared,  and  was  rf?et  by  a  criti- 
cism discerning  and  refining,  which  ripened  his  percep- 
tions, stimulated  him,  and  opened  up  to  him  a  new 
avenue  in  his  work  which  had  hitherto  been  closed. 
As  has  been  shown,  none  of  the  theatres  of  that  day 
were  well  furnished.  It  was  deemed  unnecessary  to 
decorate  the  stage,  and  therefore  with  meagre  ap- 
pliances, in  such  poor  robes  as  his  poverty  compelled 
him  to  wear,  but  with  a  soul  within  him  which  asked 
no  favor  of  Fortune,  Edwin  Forrest  entered  upon  his 
first  important  performances  of  the  higher  roles  of  the 
standard  drama.  He  followed  tradition  here,  and 
took  up  the  characters  which  must  always  have  some 
feeling  representative,  so  long  as  the  taste  for  the  grand 
old  dramatists  survives.  He  soon  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  one  of  the  leading  men  of  mind  in  the  South,  — 
President  HoUey,  of  the  University  near  Lexington,  — 
an  able  critic,  a  ripe  scholar,  a  man  of  refined  tastes,  and 
an  enthusiastic  lover  of  the  theatre,  who  gave  Forrest  good 
counsel  that  was  of  great  service  to  him,  and  inspired 
him  to  renewed  study  of  his  profession.  It  was  to  this 
noble  pioneer  in  the  cause  of  education  that  Forrest 
was  indebted  for  the  advice  which  led  him  finally  to 
abandon  comedy,  and  to  devote  his  time  and  attention 
to  tragedy  alone,  to  aim  at  lofty  ideals  in  his  private  as 
well  as  in  his  public  life,  and  to  remember  that  the  char- 


24  EDWIN  FORREST. 

acter  of  the  man  will  ever  color  the  work  of  the  artist ; 
supplementing  these  with  other  teachings  for  his  ad- 
vancement and  improvement,  that  could  only  have 
come  from  a  man  so  pure  and  lofty  in  spirit  as  was 
President  Holley. 

At  last  the  happy  season  came  to  a  close,  the  good- 
byes to  Lexington  were  spoken,  and  the  strollers  once 
more  set  out  for  other  scenes  and  fresh  adventures. 
The  ladies  of  the  company  rode  in  covered  vans  or 
carts,  perched  upon  the  scenery  or  the  baggage ;  the 
gentlemen  went  on  foot.  Their  destination  was  Cin- 
cinnati, then,  as  now,  the  Queen  City  of  the  West. 
This  was  the  promised  land  of  the  wanderers,  towards 
which  all  their  steps  had  slowly  tended,  the  end  of 
all  their  journeyings. 

In  February,  1823,  they  opened  at  the  Columbia  Street 
Theatre,  in  "  The  Soldier's  Daughter ;  "  Forrest  playing 
the  very  humble  part  of  Young  Malfort,  a  sad  youth, 
the  hero  of  the  heavy  sentiment,  who  is  introduced  to 
give  weight  and  solemnity  to  a  very  charming  comedy. 
This  was  Forrest's  first  appearance  in  Cincinnati,  a  city 
to  which  after  many  years  he  was  to  return  in  triumph, 
and  recall  with  many  a  smile  the  events  which  we  are 
now  tracing.  The  description  of  one  theatre  in  the 
early  days  of  those  Western  cities  will  suffice  for  all. 
The  state  of  the  drama,  its  patronage,  and  the  style  of 
plays  produced,  were  with  trifling  exceptions  identical 
in  all  these  places. 

At  this  period  in  Forrest's  career  it  may  be  said  with 
certainty  that  the  romance,  if  such  it  may  be  called,  of 
his  life  as  a  stroller  came  to  an  end,  and  the  actual  prose 


THE  STROLLER.  2$ 

began.  Travel  and  the  novelty  of  new  scenes  and  in- 
cidents had  deadened  the  sense  of  suffering  which  ac- 
companied the  earlier  struggles,  and  a  refreshing  sleep 
after  a  day  of  toil  and  denial  was  still  the  boon  allowed 
to  the  wandering  actor,  in  which  some  sweet  dream  of 
rich  comfort,  of  luxurious  home,  would  banish  the  stern 
reality  of  the  day  gone  by,  and  fortify  the  soul  against 
the  labors  of  the  day  to  come.  These  consolations, 
poor  though  they  were,  which  had  sprung  from  a  light 
heart,  entertained  by  the  variety  and  ever-changing 
scenes  of  his  late  experiences,  were  now  to  end.  The 
duties  of  the  theatre  grew  more  severe.  A  change  of 
bill  nightly  necessitated  fresh  and  increasing  work ;  new 
parts  demanded  new  wardrobes,  or  old  garments  patched 
and  transformed ;  while  particular  lines  of  business  and 
the  exclusive  claim  to  a  certain  range  of  characters  grat- 
ifying to  the  performer  were  all  swept  away  in  the  de- 
mands for  what  was  felt  to  be  the  greatest  good  for  the 
greatest  number.  The  serious  hero  of  the  opening  play 
was  often  the  ballet-dancer  of  the  after-piece,  or  the 
painted  clown  who  sang  a  comic  song  between  drama 
and  farce.  Doffing  the  plaid  and  the  dirk  of  Young 
Norval,  Edwin  had  even  put  on  the  many-colored 
garments  of  the  Virginia  negro,  had  given  his  audi- 
ences a  break-down  or  a  walk-around  in  true  plantation 
style,  before  Daddy  Rice,  the  great  "  Jim  Crow,"  was 
known  to  the  stage  at  all. 

As  a  matter  of  curiosity,  we  give  here  portions  of  an 
advertisement  from  the  Cincinnati  Independent  Press, 
dated  July  17,  1823,  showing  Forrest's  position  on  the 
stage  at  that  time. 


26  EDWIN  FORREST. 


GLOBE  THEATRE  — THREE  new  pieces. 

The  public  are  respectfully  informed  that  the  new  petit 
comedy  of  "Dandyism;  or,  Modern  Fashions,"  having  been 
received  with  distinguished  approbation,  according  to  the  wish 
of  many  citizens  will  be  repeated.  An  original  interlude,  called 
"  The  Tailor  in  Distress ;  or,  A  Yankee  Trick,"  will  also  be 
brought  forward,  and  those  two  will  be  followed  by  the  grand 
pantomimic  spectacle  of  "  Don  Quixote,"  which  has  been  in 
preparation  for  several  weeks.  The  performance  will  positively 
begin  at  lo  minutes  before  8,  and  close  before  12  o'clock. 

ON  THIS   EVENING,   JULY    17, 
will  be  presented  (for  the  second  and  last  time)  the  petit  comedy 
of 

DANDYISM;  OR,  MODERN  FASHIONS. 

Mr.  Wilson Mr.  Cargill. 

Frank  Freelove Davis. 

Bill  Shuffle  .    .    .  |      Two  modern      ( .    .  Scott. 

Tom  Tipple  .     .    .     .  »  dandies.  (  .    .  Forrest. 

Posi"  Boy,  also  Tailor's  Boy Miss  Hanna. 

Charlotte Mrs.  Cargill. 

Beity  Bab Miss  Riddle. 

Mrs.  Wilson Mrs.  Hanna. 


In  Act  III.  —  a  Duel  between  the  two  dandies  (Messrs. 
Scott  and  Forrest),  in  which  will  be  introduced  the  most 
modern  modes  of  shunning  a  bullet,  viz.  long  dodging,  short 
dodging,  quick  dodging,  quizzical  dodging,  demi-quizzical  dodg- 
ing, and  demi-semi-quizzical  dodging,  after  the  manner  of  Cum- 
ming  and  McDufifie,  the  heroes  of  the  South. 

After  which  an  original  interlude  (founded  on  fact)  called 

THE    TAILOR    IN    DISTRESS;     OR,    A    YANKEE 
TRICK. 

General Mr.  Cargill. 

Snip  (a  tailor  of  Paperopolis) Eberle. 


THE  STROLLER.  27 

Tom  (tailor's  boy) Miss  Riddle. 

CuFFEE  (a  Kentucky  negro) Mr.  Forrest 

Miss  Philisy  (a  negro  lady) 

In  the  course  of  the  interlude  Mr.  Forrest  will  give  mock 
imitations  of  Mr.  Phillips's  singing. 

The  evening's  entertainment  to  conclude  with  the  grand 
heroic  pantomime  of 

DON  QUIXOTE, 
with  appropriate  scenery,  dresses,  and  music. 

Count Mr.  .Sweeny. 

Countess Mrs.  Riddle. 

Sancho  Panza  (Don  Qui.\ote's  squire)     .     .     .  Mr.  Forrest. 

Captain  of  the  Robbers 

Second  Captain Davis. 

Sutler  Woman Eberle. 

Don  Quixote Scott. 

First  Traveller Cargill. 

Second  Traveller Giles. 

First  Miller Lucas. 

Second  Miller George. 

Third  Miller Giles. 

At  this  period  Forrest's  labors  in  the  theatre  were 
only  equalled  by  his  financial  sufferings  in  private  life. 
An  accident  to  his  only  pair  of  shoes  left  him  absolutely 
without  a  covering  for  his  foot,  which  he  bandaged  as 
if  wounded  ;  and  limping  about  for  several  days  he  won 
much  sympathy  from  his  companions,  who  knew  not 
that  his  distress  was  in  his  pocket.  The  welcome  ap- 
plause that  rang  in  the  ears  of  a  Damon  or  a  Pythias 
sometimes  silenced  the  cries  of  hunger,  warmed  the 
almost  naked  body,  and  soothed  the  wounds  of  pride. 
But  the  little  band  could  not  live  on  the  good-will  of 
small  audiences  alone,  and  the  crash,  although  long 


28  EDWIN  FORREST. 

deferred,  came  at  last  to  this  as  to  nearly  all  other 
theatrical  ventures  in  that  virgin  field.  Collins  and  Jones, 
depending  upon  weak  characters  in  the  absence  of  great 
ones,  after  a  hard  struggle  finally  succumbed,  and  the 
doors  of  the  theatre  were  suddenly  closed,  throwing 
Forrest  and  his  companions  out  of  employment. 

He  had  gained  by  this  his  first  regular  engagement 
some  local  fame,  not  a  little  valuable  experience,  and 
the  friendship  of  a  number  of  good  men  who  saw 
promises  of  future  excellence  in  the  lad,  and  were  not 
slow  to  encourage  it.  Among  these  the  most  valuable, 
perhaps,  was  the  veteran  General,  afterwards  President, 
Harrison.  This  gentle  heart  beat  with  pure  pity  as  he 
heard  the  young  stroller's  stories  of  his  trials  ;  and  his 
active  friendship  on  many  occasions  lightened  the  bur- 
dens which  the  youth  was  carrying. 

In  the  upper  part  of  a  barn  in  the  city  of  Hamilton, 
all  that  was  left  of  the  wreck  of  the  company  of  Collins 
and  Jones  met  again  to  face  another  failure  and  another 
journey :  this  time  to  Lebanon,  with  the  same  sad  ex- 
periences, and  then  to  Dayton,  disaster  following  dis- 
aster, where  the  union  was  finally  and  totally  dissolved. 
Penniless,  hungry,  poorly  clad,  but  hopeful  still,  Forrest 
started  on  foot  for  Cincinnati,  a  distance  of  forty  miles. 
This  was  one  of  the  severest  trials  of  his  life,  and  in 
most  pathetic  language  he  often  alluded  to  it  in  after 
years.  Adventures  of  a  gypsy  nature  were  not  wanting 
by  the  way.  He  entered  a  stream,  with  his  poor  shoes 
in  his  hand,  to  help  his  way  along  by  means  of  the 
row-boat  he  saw,  apparently  without  an  owner,  lying 
temptingly  unfastened  on  the  opposite  bank.     But  a 


THE  STROLLER.  29 

rough  warning  to  be  off,  emphasized  by  the  vision  of  a 
shot-gun  pointing  his  way,  led  him  to  prefer  the  hard 
road  to  the  perils  of  such  navigation.  At  last  he  found 
himself  once  more  in  the  Queen  City  of  the  West,  poorer 
than  ever,  and  with  no  prospect  of  a  brighter  future. 
Chance  engagements,  with  a  txifle  of  salary  now  and 
then  to  keep  starvation  from  his  door,  a  trip  to  Louis- 
ville with  the  wreck  of  the  Cincinnati  company,  mod- 
erate success  there,  a  return  once  more  to  Cincinnati 
under  a  new  management  and  with  a  new  enterprise, 
where  at  last  permanent  employment  seemed  assured, 
are  among  tTie  incidents  which  followed  that  naked 
hegira  from  Dayton. 

During  these  last  months  in  Cincinnati  Forrest  played 
Norval,  yciffier,  George  Barnwell,  and  Richard  the 
Third,  besides  certain  parts  in  comedy.  He  was  the 
mainstay  of  the  company,  the  stock-star,  its  legitimate 
leader.  In  one  year  the  amateur  of  Philadelphia,  in  spite 
of  many  disasters,  became  a  power  in  the  regular  ranks  of 
a  Western  theatre.  This  brief  interval  of  success  served 
only  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door,  but  gave  no  margin 
of  surplus,  even  if  the  young  stroller  had  been  of  a  sav- 
ing character.  The  near  and  inevitable,  the  idle  future, 
was  still  to  be  cared  for.  When  July  came,  and  with  it 
the  closing  of  the  theatres,  the  strollers  separated. 

We  may  here  speak  of  a  friendship  which,  begin- 
ning under  the  shadow  of  mutual  poverty,  lasted  and 
grew  stronger  and  more  dear  under  the  sun  of  pros- 
perity. To  Mrs.  Riddle  and  her  family,  actors  like 
himself,  Edwin  Forrest  owed  in  these  dark  days  much 
of  the  hope  and  encouragement  which  brighten  ad- 


30  EDWIN  FORREST. 

versity.  Their  courtesy  and  unfailing  friendship  were 
the  ties  which  bound  him  to  duty,  and  kept  in  his 
mind  the  example  and  precepts  of  his  beloved  mother 
and  sisters.  The  Riddles  had  passed  many  years 
of  honorable  labor  in  their  profession,  had  reached 
respectable  positions,  and  out  of  their  scanty  earnings 
made  Edwin  feel  at  home  in  a  circle  where  happy  con- 
tentment helped  to  banish  from  the  hearthstone  the 
pangs  of  public  neglect  or  private  sorrows.  To  the 
end  of  his  life,  in  fame  and  prosperity,  the  name  of  this 
early  benefactress  of  his  was  a  dear  one  to  his  ears,  and 
he  never  ceased  to  speak  fondly  of  her  and  of  her 
memoiy.  One  cold  winter's  day,  when  the  snow  lay  deep 
on  the  graves  at  Mount  Auburn,  the  writer  of  these 
lines  stood  by  Forrest's  side  as  the  last  rites  of  the 
Church  were  performed  over  a  member  of  this  family, 
who  in  his  early  days  had  shown  herself  so  kindly  and 
thoroughly  his  friend.  The  strong  man  gazed  into  the 
last  resting-place  of  her  he  had  loved  so  well,  and  as 
the  winter's  sun  fell  upon  that  noble  head,  bared  and 
reverent,  the  tears  rolled  unchecked  from  his  eyes,  un- 
used to  weep.  Sweet  memories  of  the  happy  past 
mingled  with  the  sad  thoughts  that  this,  at  last,  was  the 
final  earthly  parting. 

The  Riddle  family  had  taken  a  plain  cottage  at  New- 
port, Kentucky,  on  the  Ohio  River,  opposite  Cincin- 
nati, and  here  in  this  enforced  and  penniless  holiday 
time  a  place  was  made  for  Forrest.  They  gave  him 
out  of  their  scant  store  the  help  they  could  hardly 
spare,  a  bed,  and,  if  nothing  more,  a  kindly  welcome  ; 
while  a  neighboring  field  often  supplied  the  ear  of  com, 


THE  STROLLER.  3 1 

which,  roasted  gypsy-like  by  the  hedge-side  fire,  allayed 
the  pangs  of  hunger,  and  brought  to  him  forgetfulness 
of  present  misery. 

Forrest  had  now  reached  the  lowest  point  of  his  for- 
tunes. Within  the  first  year  of  his  apprenticeship  he 
had  tasted  the  bitterness  of  hope  deferred,  the  gall  of 
unpaid  toil,  and  suffered  the  hardest  of  all  wants,  the 
want  of  food.  It  is  said  that  at  this  period,  giving  up 
all  hope,  the  tortured,  naked,  hungry  lad,  in  despair  of  a 
brighter  day  to  come,  madly  dreamed  of  a  sudden  and 
violent  end  to  all  his  misery.  But  with  that  elasticity 
which  happily  belongs  to  great  souls  destined  for  great 
achievements,  he  passed  into  a  more  hopeful  and  more 
cheerful  mood,  when  the  horizon  of  his  vision  became 
less  dark  and  threatening.  With  book  in  hand,  —  a 
poorly  bound  volume  of  his  beloved  Shakspere,  —  he 
passed  whole  hours  of  many  days  beneath  the  trees  of 
a  neighboring  farm,  where,  pondering  over  the  immortal 
text,  surrounded  by  all  the  influences  which  Nature 
exerts  over  sensitive  minds,  new  plans,  new  purposes, 
took  possession  of  him.  He  seemed  to  catch  in- 
spiring glimpses  of  the  destiny  that  awaited  him,  and 
the  elation  that  was  bom  of  those  musings  hallowed  the 
spot  to  him  forever.  Looking  out  through  the  window 
of  his  present  poverty  into  the  future  day  of  his  splen- 
did prosperity,  he  vowed  that  this  ground  should  one 
day  be  his  own,  —  an  oath  he  religiously  kept,  for  these 
very  acres  were  many  years  after  purchased  by  him, 
and  during  his  life  never  passed  out  of  his  hands.  The 
ground  upon  which  the  poor  young  stroller  had  snatched 
so  many  happy  seli-forgetting  hours  of  study  became 


32  EDWIN  FORREST. 

one  of  the  most  valued  possessions  of  the  successful 
tragedian,  valued  for  its  associations'  sake  if  for  nothing 
more. 

While  enjoying  this  hospitality  of  the  Riddles,  Forrest 
had  succeeded  in  making  an  engagement  for  the  fol- 
lowing season  with  James  H.  Caldwell,  then  manager  of 
the  most  prosperous  of  all  the  Southern  or  Western 
circuits.  His  salary  was  to  be  eighteen  dollars  a  week, 
an  advance  upon  his  old  wages  that  speaks  well  for  the 
reputation  he  had  already  made ;  and  he  was  to  make 
his  future  headquarters  at  New  Orleans,  a  city  already 
the  centre  of  all  that  was  chivalrous  and  cultured  in  the 
South.  At  the  last  moment  Forrest  was  so  loath  to  part 
with  his  friends,  made  doubly  dear  to  him  by  adversity 
and  mutual  tastes,  that  he  would  have  been  willing  to 
have  sacrificed  even  the  brilliant  opportunities  offered 
to  him  in  New  Orleans,  if  his  old  friend  and  manager 
Sol  Smith  would  have  given  him  a  place  among  his 
old  companions  of  the  West.  This  was  firmly  refused, 
however,  Mr.  Smith  insisting  that  for  his  own  best  in- 
terests, as  well  as  for  the  proper  fulfilment  of  his  word, 
he  should  go  to  his  Southern  engagement.  In  pique 
at  this  denial,  full  of  wrath,  and  in  order  effectually 
to  escape  the  sorrow  involved  in  the  parting  from  his 
friends,  as  well  as  to  break  with  the  manager  who  had 
a  right  to  his  services,  and  at  the  same  time  to  affront 
the  manager  who  had  declined  them,  he  joined  a  cir- 
cus troupe,  and  gave  surprising  evidences  of  his  agil- 
ity in  the  ring.  Fortune,  however,  having  something 
better  in  store  for  him  than  the  turning  of  somersaults 
on  the  sawdust  of  a  travelUng  show,  led  him  to  listen 


THE  STROLLER.  33 

once  more  to  the  earnest  advice  of  Mr.  Smith,  who 
pointed  out  to  him  all  the  advantages  that  lay  before 
him  in  the  South,  appealed  to  his  honor,  always  a  safe 
and  sure  guide,  and, won  his  consent  at  last  to  go  to 
his  duty. 


34  EDWIN  FORREST. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

NEW  ORLEANS.  —  NEW  YORK.  —  HIS   FIRST   DECIDED 
SUCCESS. 

DURING  this  journey  South,  over  the  great  riv- 
ers, Forrest  made  the  acquaintance  of  General 
Winfield  Scott  and  John  Howard  Payne,  in  whose 
society  the  passage  was  made  only  too  quickly,  for  on 
the  4th  day  of  February,  1824,  at  the  American  Thea- 
tre, under  the  management  of  Caldwell,  Forrest  made 
his  first  bow  to  a  New  Orleans  audience  as  jfaffier  in 
"Venice  Preserved,"  one  of  the  tragedies  of  the  old 
turgid  school,  which  has  vigor  and  vitality  enough  still 
to  hold  a  sort  of  contested  possession  of  the  stage. 

New  Orleans  at  this  time  was  the  gayest  capital  in 
the  country,  and  was  alive  Avith  entertainments  of  all 
kinds.  The  season  lasted  from  the  close  of  the  cotton- 
picking  on  the  plantations  until  the  coming  of  Lent. 
Rich  planters  with  their  families,  when  the  crop  was 
gathered,  came  to  the  Crescent  City  for  their  dissipa- 
tion. The  audience  there,  then  as  now,  was  made  up 
largely  of  ladies,  and  their  presence  gave  a  refined  air 
to  the  entertainment.  A  breathless  and  noiseless  atten- 
tion took  the  place  of  loud  applause,  and  those  points 
were  best  valued  in  the  actor  which  were  given  without 


A'EW  ORLEANS.  35 

rant,  and  betrayed  a  delicate  perception  of  nature  in 
as  delicate  a  form  of  art. 

The  influence  of  French  taste  was  apparent  on  and 
off  the  stage,  on  the  street,  and  in  society.  Caldwell 
was  an  actor  of  the  impassioned  school,  a  great  favorite 
with  the  public  he  had  served  for  many  years,  and 
much  courted  by  society,  where  he  shone  with  natural 
lustre.  He  presented  Forrest  to  his  new  auditors, 
and  the  young  man's  fine  figure,  youthful  presence,  and 
noble  voice  made  an  instant  impressipn ;  his  open 
and  frank  bearing,  which  disdained  criticism,  removing 
somewhat  the  taint  of  provincialism  which  had  early 
sho\vn  itself  in  the  actor's  robust  style.  This  style 
could  have  been  modified  in  the  presence  of  so  cul- 
tured and  delicate  an  audience  had  Forrest  submitted 
himself  freely  to  its  influence  ;  but  his  career  was  here 
too  stormy  and  too  brief,  his  tastes  too  mature,  to  ad- 
mit of  the  complete  reform  which  might  have  taken 
place  to  his  advantage. 

His  associates,  if  we  may  trust  his  biographers,  were 
not  of  a  character  to  purify  his  nature  or  refine  his 
manners.  While  an  awful  curiosity  hovers  about  the 
inventor  who  gave  his  name  to  the  bowie-knife,  it  seems 
unreasonable  to  attach  any  great  importance  to  the 
friendship  of  the  man  upon  that  ground  alone.  He 
may  have  had  qualities  mitigating  the  ferocity  which 
characterized  his  many  bloody  contests  at  arms,  but 
these  are  not  dwelt  upon,  and  the  only  advantage 
which  Forrest  ever  reaped  from  this  intimacy  was  the 
possession  of  the  identical  knife  which  had  played  so 
prominent  a  part  in  the  hands  of  Colonel  Bowie.     At 


36  EDWIN  FORREST. 

least  this  is  all  the  benefit  which  his  biographers  have 
shown  as  growing  out  of  their  friendship.  At  no  time 
of  Edwin  Forrest's  life  did  he  need  masculine  or  bar- 
barian influence,  —  he  always  had  a  surplus  in  that 
direction,  —  and  it  would  have  been  better  for  him 
could  he  have  drawn  his  inspiration  from  the  gentle 
and  refining  spirits  which  have  ever  animated  the 
audiences  and  society  of  the  Crescent  City.  He 
made  his  choice,  and  selected  the  coterie  which  was 
most  congenial  to  him.  We  see  in  this  no  natural  out- 
cropping of  a  "  Democratic"  spirit ;  rather  the  haughty 
conceit  of  the  self-made  man  who  scorned  to  submit 
to  judicious  training.  With  Bowie,  with  a  large-hearted, 
powerfully  built,  fighting  steamboat  captain  (whose 
best  exploit  was  not  in  conquering  a  crowd  of  loafers 
by  his  muscle,  but  in  the  tenderness  of  his  care  of 
Forrest  when  ill  of  the  fever) ,  with  Push-ma-ta-ha,  the 
Indian  who  is  said  to  have  suggested  the  production  of 
"Metamora,"  and  with  other  original  spirits  like  these, 
Forrest  passed  his  unoccupied  time  in  New  Orleans. 
They  charmed  the  young  athlete  by  their  novel  free- 
dom, and  he  was  too  full  of  the  warm  blood  of  the 
barbarian  himself  to  resist  theu"  fascination. 

Of  his  professional  progress  here  we  have  but  poor 
accounts.  He  seems  to  have  been  very  popular,  and  to 
have  had  an  experience  larger  than  he  had  heretofore 
enjoyed.  He  played  with  the  elder  Conway,  and  was 
affected  by  the  grandeur  of  that  actor's  Othello,  —  a 
study  which  served  Forrest  well  when  in  later  years  he 
inherited  the  character.  This  actor  was  in  a  degree 
associated  with  the  days  of  Samuel  Johnson,  by  the 


NFAV  ORLEANS.  37 

preference  which  the  widow  of  Thrale  and  the  wife  of 
Piozzi  had  shown  him  when  he  first  appeared  in  London. 
He  was  a  man  of  remarkable  physical  beauty,  and  the 
old  lady  became  his  ardent  admirer.  Her  susceptibility 
created  much  amusement  among  her  friends ;  but  the 
association  was  valuable  to  Conway,  as  it  brought  him 
into  public  notice  through  the  aid  of  a  powerful  literary 
clique.  He  drowned  himself  in  Charleston  Harbor 
during  a  temporary  fit  of  insanity,  in  1828. 

Forrest's  engagement  with  Caldwell  had  taken  him 
to  Petersburg,  Norfolk,  and  Richmond,  then  back  again 
to  New  Orleans.  While  at  Richmond  he  attracted  the 
attention  and  made  the  personal  acquaintance  of  the 
venerable  Chief  Justice  Marshall.  He  saw  the  patriot 
Lafayette,  then  revisiting  the  scenes  of  his  impulsive 
and  ardent  youth,  and  receiving  the  warm  welcome 
which  was  everywhere  paid  to  him.  Forrest  returned 
to  New  Orleans  in  1825,  reopening  as  Young  Malfort, 
in  the  "  Soldier's  Daughter,"  a  part  which  seemed  to 
have  fastened  to  him,  he  played  it  so  often,  even  when 
engaged  for  better  things.  In  March  he  supported  Con- 
way, playing  lago.  In  May  he  announced  for  his  bene- 
fit "  King  Lear."  The  performance  was  postponed 
on  account  of  the  weather,  and  when  it  did  take  place 
he  gave  "  The  Mountaineers  "  instead  of  the  Shakspe- 
rean  tragedy.  The  season  closed  at  the  end  of  May. 
During  this  latter  month  he  had  given  his  first  perform- 
ance of  Brutus,  in  Howard  Payne's  drama,  a  part  in 
which  he  became  famous  in  after  years,  given  up  only 
when  his  strength  and  agility  were  failing  him. 

A  quarrel  with  his  manager,  who  seems  to  have  envied 


38  EDWIN  FORREST. 

his  success  with  the  public,  or  so  Forrest  believed ;  his 
first  serious  love  affair ;  and  an  attack  of  yellow  fever  of 
which  he  nearly  died,  and  from  which  he  was  rescued 
by  the  care  of  his  friend  Graham,  the  steamboat  cap- 
tain,— are  the  leading  incidents  of  his  later  New  Or- 
leans career.  Jane  Placide,  who  inspired  the  first  love 
of  Edwin  Forrest,  combined  talent,  beauty,  and  good- 
ness. Her  name  was  an  honorable  one,  and  the  affec- 
tion with  which  she  filled  the  young  actor's  heart  might 
have  proved  the  blessed  experience  of  his  life,  could  she 
have  returned  it.  Her  character  would  have  softened 
the  asperities  of  his,  and  led  him  by  a  calmer  path  to 
those  grand  elevations  towards  which  Providence  had 
directed  his  footsteps.  Baffled  in  his  love,  and  believ- 
ing Caldwell  to  be  his  rival  and  enemy,  he  challenged 
him,  but  was  rebuked  by  the  silent  contempt  of  his 
manager,  whom  the  impulsive  and  disappointed  lover 
"posted."  He  then  betook  himself  to  the  wigwam  of 
his  Indian  friend,  where,  in  commune  with  a  nature 
new  and  fascinating,  he  sought  solace  for  his  disappoint- 
ment. In  the  study  of  his  model  for  "  Metamora  "  he 
learned  to  forget  the  pangs  of  his  refusal,  and  Push- 
ma-ta-ha  by  the  wigwam  fire  consoled  his  pale-faced 
friend  with  the  history  of  his  own  wild  loves. 

Returning  to  New  Orleans  in  August,  as  poor  as 
when  he  left  it,  Forrest  secured  a  passage  in  a  sailing 
ship  for  New  York,  was  nearly  caught  in  the  teeth  of  a 
shark  while  bathing  in  the  Gulf,  but  escaped  miracu- 
lously, and  arrived  home  at  last  after  an  absence  of 
three  years  of  enough  drudgery  and  adventure  to  fill  a 
life,  and  with  a  varied  experience  which  colored  his 


NEIV  YORK.  39 

whole  career.  He  had  not  forgotten  his  home  in  his 
absence.  He  had  sent  to  the  dear  ones  from  time  to 
time  such  sums  as  he  could  spare  from  his  little  store ; 
and  he  found  them  now  all  joy,  eagerly  expectant  to 
see  and  to  welcome  him  whose  fame  had  already  reached 
the  humble  dwelling  and  filled  the  widowed  mother's 
heart  with  pride. 

The  hard  novitiate  of  Edwin  Forrest  was  now  draw- 
ing near  its  close.  Securing  a  stock  engagement  with 
Charles  Gilfert,  manager  of  the  Albany  Theatre,  he 
opened  there  in  the  early  fall,  and  played  for  the  first 
time  with  Edmund  Kean,  then  on  his  second  visit  to 
this  country.  The  meeting  with  this  extraordinary 
man,  and  the  attentions  he  received  from  him,  were 
among  the  directing  influences  of  Forrest's  life.  To 
his  last  hour  he  never  wearied  of  singing  the  praises  of 
Kean,  whose  genius  filled  the  English-speaking  world 
with  admiration.  Two  men  more  unlike  in  mind  and 
body  can  scarcely  be  imagined.  Kean,  who  had 
come  up  from  his  early  sufferings  into  that  prosperity 
which  crazed  him,  bore  upon  his  delicate  frame  the 
marks  of  the  struggle.  The  fire  of  genius  still  dwelt  in 
that  eye  which  could  melt  with  tenderness  in  the  pas- 
sion of  Romeo,  or  flash  with  the  lurid  fires  of  jealousy 
as  the  "  dusky  Moor."  He  had  passed  over  the  soil 
yet  virgin  to  his  young  admirer,  and  he  bore  the  sad 
marks  of  his  bitter  travail.  Transformed  from  the  cer- 
tain misery  of  a  provincial  career  whose  rewards  were 
beggarly  into  the  dazzling  glory  of  a  London  triumph, 
Kean  spanned  at  one  bound  the  interval  which  sepa- 
rates luxury  fi-om  want,  wealth  from  poverty.     But  he 


40  EDWIN  FORREST. 

was  more  true  to  his  earlier  instincts  than  sensitive  to 
his  later  possibilities.  The  spark  which  filled  the  stage 
with  its  divine  radiance  consumed  the  frame  which 
emitted  it,  and  he  who  swayed  admiring  audiences  by 
his  sublime  powers  became  at  last  the  victim  of  pas- 
sions too  late  subjected  to  restraint.  The  early  life  of 
Edmund  Kean,  passed  in  the  midst  of  social  prejudices 
which  outlawed  the  player,  was  the  last  sad  and  awful 
protest  against  the  injustice  and  ignorance  of  an  era 
which  placed  the  genius  of  the  actor  among  the  glories 
of  mankind,  while  the  man  himself  was  socially  neg- 
lected and  contemned. 

Until  now  Forrest  had  seen  no  actor  who  represented 
in  perfection  the  impassioned  school  of  which  Kean 
was  the  master.  He  had  known  Cooke  in  the  decline 
of  his  powers,  but  his  own  judgment  was  immature. 
Here  was  indeed  a  revelation.  How  must  his  mind 
have  grown  in  the  study  of  that  style  which  grasped 
the  innermost  of  the  passions  and  flashed  out  its  ex- 
pression with  the  spark  divine,  through  a  frame  slender 
but  magnetic.  In  later  life  Forrest  loved  to  recall  those 
impressions,  and  a  lock  of  the  great  actor's  hah-  was 
tenderly  preserved  amongst  his  most  valued  treasures. 
He^  played  lago  to  his  Othello,  Titus  to  his  Brutus, 
and  Richmond  to  his  Richard  III.  The  season  at 
Albany  ended  in  disaster :  the  actor's  wardrobe  was  in 
pawn ;  but  he  went  to  Philadelphia  to  play  for  his  old 
friend  Porter's  benefit,  and  his  return  to  his  native  city 
was  made  happy  by  the  success  of  his  performance  of 
Jaffier  on  this  occasion.  He  was  called  upon  to  re- 
peat it,  and  for  two  nights  he  tasted  the  first  sweets  of 


HIS  FIRST  DECIDED  SUCCESS.  4 1 

his  coming  starring^  glories.  His  last  hours  of  slavery, 
which  we  will  briefly  notice,  were  now  at  hand.  Gilfert 
had  assumed  the  management  of  the  Bowery  Theatre, 
New  York,  under  the  board  of  directors  with  Prosper 
M.  Wetmore  at  their  head,  who  were  building  that  now 
venerable  edifice.  Forrest  was  engaged  for  one  year, 
at  a  salary  of  twenty-eight  dollars  per  week. 

In  the  inter\al  which  preceded  the  opening  of 
the  theatre,  Forrest  appeared  at  the  Park,  for  the 
benefit  of  Woodhull,  playing  Othello.  He  made  a 
pronounced  success,  his  old  manager,  sitting  in  front, 
profanely  exclaiming,  "  By  God,  the  boy  has  made  a 
hit !  "  This  was  a  great  event,  as  the  Park  was  then 
the  leading  theatre  of  America,  and  its  actors  the  most 
exclusive  and  estimable.  He  played  a  few  nights  also 
at  Baltimore  and  Washington,  and  again  passed  a  short 
time  with  his  beloved  mother,  to  whose  careful  love 
and  sterling  character  he  owed  so  much,  and  towards 
whom  his  filial  love  was  constant  to  the  end. 

He  opened  at  the  Bowery  Theatre  in  November, 
1826,  as  Othello,  and  made  a  brilliant  impression.  His 
salary  was  raised  at  once  from  twenty-eight  dollars  to 
forty  dollars  per  week.  From  this  success  may  be 
traced  the  first  absolute  hold  made  by  Edwin  Forest 
upon  the  attention  of  cultivated  auditors  and  intelligent 
critics.  The  "  Bowery  "  was  then  a  very  different  the- 
atre from  what  it  aftenvards  became,  when  the  news- 
boys took  forcible  possession  of  its  pit  and  the  fire 
laddies  were  the  arbiters  of  public  taste  in  its  neighbor- 
hood. The  royal  days  of  Eddy  and  the  large-footed, 
loud-voiced  tragedians  were  yet  to  come.    The  sue- 


42  EDWIN  FORREST. 

cessors  of  Hamblin  were  of  a  melodramatic  school 
which  would  have  caused  the  great  tragedian  to  smile. 
Forrest's  success  was  the  beginning  of  a  metropoHtan 
reputation  which  extended  over  forty  years  of  service. 
It  was  here  he  gained  the  friendship  of  those  men,  emi- 
nent in  that  day  as  the  leaders  of  public  opinion  in  the- 
atrical affairs,  the  journalists  and  writers  whose  kindly 
but  well-digested  opinions  aided  him  in  fixing  his  con- 
ceptions and  perfecting  his  style.  To  James  Lawson 
and  Leggett,  of  the  Post,  he  owed  a  debt  which  he 
afterwards  paid  with  interest.  A  pleasant  instance  of 
Forrest's  moral  integrity  may  be  told  here.  He  had 
been  approached  by  a  rival  manager,  after  his  first  suc- 
cess, and  urged  to  secede  from  the  "  Bowery  "  and 
join  the  other  house  at  a  much  larger  salary.  He 
scornfully  refused  to  break  his  word,  although  his  own 
interests  must  suffer. 

His  popularity  at  this  time  was  so  great  that  he  was 
often  loaned  to  the  other  theatres  by  Gilfert,  who  de- 
manded two  hundred  dollars  "a  night  for  his  services, 
while  paying  Forrest  only  forty  dollars  a  week.  When 
his  contract  for  the  season  had  expired,  and  Gilfert  ap- 
proached him  for  a  renewal  for  another  year,  he  re- 
plied that  he  would  willingly  remain  for  the  valuation 
which  Gilfert  himself  had  placed  upon  him.  He  was 
instantly  engaged  for  eighty  nights,  at  a  salary  of  two 
hundred  dollars  a  night.  This  virtually  closed  his 
stock  career,  and  was  the  first  great  advance  he  had 
made  towards  that  giddy  height  from  which  he  could 
not  now  be  kept  back.  From  the  unfavorable  sur- 
roundings of  his  early  Ufe,  from  the  hard  school  of 


ins  FIRST  DECIDED  SUCCESS.  43 

adversity,  Forrest  had  already  emerged,  and  was  mov- 
ing surely  towards  the  grand  development  of  his  great 
powers,  forming  his  style  upon  the  best  models  of  the 
robust  school  which  Cooper  and  Conway  had  brought 
over  from  the  Kembles,  modified  and  softened  by  the 
acting  of  Edmund  Kean,  who  had  flashed  so  lately  like 
a  meteor  across  his  startled  vision. 


44  EDWIN  FORREST. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HIS  VISITS  TO   EUROPE. 

EDWIN  FORREST,  according  to  his  biographers, 
had  just  passed  his  twenty-first  birthday.  He 
was  entering  thus  early  upon  a  career  such  as  few  ac- 
tors had  ever  known.  His  health  was  excellent,  his 
vigor  unimpaired  by  excesses,  and  he  might  have  posed 
for  one  of  the  Olympian  victors,  so  remarkable  was  his 
physique.  His  open,  frank  nature  was  as  yet  unwarped 
by  injustice  and  malignity,  still  unspoiled  by  souring 
adversities  or  sickened  by  satiety.  He  was  admirably 
suited  to  carry  onward  the  traditions  of  the  stage  as 
they  descerrded  to  him ;  and  he  was  destined  to  be 
their  best  exponent  in  the  coming  years.  At  one 
bound  he  seemed  to  overleap  all  barriers ;  and  he  not 
only  vaulted  to  a  high  position  early  in  life,  but  never 
once  fell  backward.  His  rivals,  on  the  other  hand, 
were  ascending  by  more  toilsome  "grades  the  heights,  at 
the  top  of  which  they  beheld  him  who  had  so  miracu- 
lously surmounted  them  all.  He  had  passed  through 
his  theatrical  drudgery  in  a  few  brief  years,  —  endured 
in  agony,  but  remembered  with  satisfaction.  In  that 
early  day  of  the  American  theatre  the  actor  was  not 
only  received  with  applause  behind  the  footlights,  but 


H/S   VISITS   TO  EUROPE.  45 

was  an  object  of  admiring  curiosity  in  private  life.  He 
shared  with  other  public  characters  that  most  trying 
of  all  ordeals,  the  praise  of  the  street,  the  openly  ut- 
tered tribute  of  the  passer-by.  That  such  influences 
are  to-day  much  modified  is  well  for  the  actor,  since 
they  undoubtedly  affected  the  bearing  of  Forrest  and 
other  players  of  his  time,  giving  them  the  air  of  being 
always  on  parade  before,  as  well  as  behind,  the  scenes. 
The  writer  can  remember  when  the  presence  of  For- 
rest upon  Broadway  attracted  marked  attention  from 
friend  and  foe,  and  led  to  a  free  exchange  of  opinions 
upon  his  appearance,  expressions  of  admiration  or 
condemnation  being  as  vigorously  offered  as  if  in  the 
theatre  itself. 

Like  all  men  who  succeed  in  the  pursuit  of  a  diffi- 
cult profession,  he  met  with  violent  opposition,  —  the 
more  violent  in  his  case,  because  his  advance  had  been 
so  rapid  and  uninterrupted,  and  his  upward  course  so 
steadily  pursued,  that  rivalry  was  baffled  by  his  in- 
dustry. Denying  himself  now  the  indulgences  which 
were  the  ruin  of  his  fellows,  he  did  not  share  their  con- 
vivial hours,  but  shunned  the  paths  in  which  they  were 
blindly  travelling.  We  can  find  him  at  this  period  of 
his  life  devoting  himself  to  every  research  which  tends 
to  the  elevation  and  improvement  of  the  mind.  He 
eagerly  studied  books  and  men,  and  gained,  by  applica- 
tion and  self-denial,  that  precedence  which  he  never 
lost.  If  ever  a  man  owed  all  he  had  acquired  to  the 
theatre,  it  was  Edwin  Forrest.  He  was  its  child  ;  with- 
in its  walls  all  his  experience  of  life  had  been  gained,  and 
through  its  literature  his  mind  had  acquired  almost  the 
only  growth  it  ever  knew. 


46  EDWIN  FORREST. 

The  retirement  of  Cooper  left  the  stage  to  a  band  of 
actors  formed  upon  his  style.  Their  names  have  long 
since  been  forgotten ;  but  in  absolute  fitness  for  their 
profession,  in  all  the  requirements  for  the  characters 
which  each  adopted,  these  early  rivals  of  Forrest  in 
his  starring  career  were  foemen  worthy  of  his  steel,  —  his 
equals  in  all  things  save  constancy  of  will  and  fixedness 
of  purpose.  From  what  is  known  to  us  of  Augustus 
Addams,  he  niust  have  been  an  actor  of  uncommon 
force.  He  was  the  idol  of  his  audiences,  and  held  an 
equal  place  with  Forrest  for  a  time  in  the  estimation  of 
play-goers.  With  a  fine  and  graceful  physique,  a  voice 
of  great  sweetness  and  power,  and  a  keen  compre- 
hension of  character,  he  made  a  great  impression  in 
such  heroic  parts  as  Damon,  Virginius,  and  Pierre. 
He  died  at  an  age  when  his  powers  should  have  been 
in  their  prime,  a  victim  of  that  influence  with  which 
a  public  so  often  suffocates,  while  embracing,  its  idol, 
—  popular  applause.  He  was  one  of  the  greatest  of 
Forrest's  competitors. 

Another  rival  was  John  R.  Scott,  who  displayed  such 
power  that  it  was  said  of  him  by  The  Times,  when 
he  appeared  in  London,  that  no  actor  possessing  so 
many  beauties  and  so  many  faults  had  ever  been  seen 
upon  the  English  stage.  Had  he  been  true  to  himself, 
he  would  undoubtedly  have  sternly  contested  the  palm 
of  superiority  with  Forrest.  To  the  actors  of  to-day, 
educated  in  the  modern  sensational  dramas,  the  splen- 
dor of  this  company  of  tragedians  seems  unreal.  The 
list  is  too  long  for  classification.  It  embraces  Inger- 
soll,  "  the  silver-tongued,"  whose  early  manhood  was 


U/S   VISITS  TO  EUROPE.  47 

the  springtime  of  a  glorious  harvest  destined  never  to 
ripen  ;  Charles  Webb,  Charles  Eaton,  and  a  long  array 
of  noble  names,  which  are  now  only  to  be  found  upon 
tombstones,  too  early  erected  over  their  golden  promise. 
That  they  did  not  hold  out  to  the  end  is  a  sad  reflec- 
tion, —  they  were  so  gifted,  so  generous,  and  might 
have  done  so  much  for  an  art  which  repays  industry  so 
liberally.  He  only  reached  the  goal  who 'had  avoided 
their  errors  and  profited  by  their  example. 

The  success  which  had  greeted  Forrest  on  his  first 
appearance  in  New  York  was  renewed  in  every  city  in 
the  land.  In  Boston,  where  the  people  are  proverbially 
slow  to  admit  new  candidates  to  their  regard,  he  sprang 
into  favor  at  once ;  and  he  writes  to  his  mother  in 
great  glee  at  having  gained  a  reputation  in  "  the  Mod- 
em Athens."  Fortune  attended  fame,  and  filled  his 
pockets  as  the  breath  of  adulation  filled  his  heart. 
Generous  and  open  in  all  things  else,  he  was  yet  cau- 
tious in  his  money  affairs,  and  soon  laid  aside  a  sum  with 
which  to  purchase  a  hcJme  for  his  beloved  mother  and 
sisters.  When  he  had  paid  the  last  penny  of  debt  left 
by  his  father,  and  had  seen  the  shelter  raised  over  the 
head  of  his  living  family,  he  rejoiced  in  the  goodness  of 
that  Providence  which  had  led  him  by  so  many  thorny 
paths  into  the  road  where  roses  bloomed  and  the  laurel 
grew.  In  every  city  he  began  now  to  make  valuable 
friends,  of  a  class  whose  culture  and  experience  aided 
his  studies,  while  they  stimulated  his  pride.  Here  was 
inaugurated  that  friendship  with  James  Oakes,  which 
only  ceased  when  the  grave  closed  over  the  lifeless  clay 
of  Forrest ;  while  with  Barry  Taylor,  of  Kentucky,  he 


48  EDWIN  FORREST. 

formed  a  friendship  which  was  at  all  times  an  inspira- 
tion and  a  delight. 

With  a  patriotic  love  for  all  things  American,  Forrest 
formed  a  plan  for  the  encouragement  or  development 
of  an  American  drama,  which  resulted  in  heavy  money 
losses  to  himself,  but  produced  such  contributions  to 
our  stage  literature  as  the  "Gladiator,"  "Jack  Cade," 
and  "Metamora."  He  was  laughed  at  for  his  pains, 
and  his  outlay  in  money  was  the  penalty  he  paid  for 
his  generous  belief  in  the  ability  of  his  countrymen  to 
create  a  drama  that  was  to  be  purely  national. 

After  five  years  of  constant  labor  he  felt  that  he  had 
earned  the  right  to  a  holiday,  and  he  formed  his  plans 
for  a  two  years'  absence  in  Europe.  His  fame  had  pre- 
ceded him  :  he  had  several  offers  to  appear  profession- 
ally ;  but  he  was  determined  that  study  and  observation 
should  be  his  only  employment  in  the  Old  World.  A 
farewell  banquet  was  tendered  him  by  the  citizens  of 
New  York,  and  a  brilliant  assemblage  gathered  to  speak 
the  words  of  cheer  and  bon  voyage,  and  give  the  young 
actor  a  substantial  proof  of  the  loving  estimation  in 
which  he  was  held  by  his  countrymen.  A  medal  was 
struck  in  honor  of  the  occasion.  Bryant,  Halleck,  Leg- 
gett,  Ingraham,  and  other  distinguished  men  were  pres- 
ent. The  affair  was  a  gratifying  one,  and  an  honor  which 
had  never  before  been  paid  to  an  American  actor. 

In  July,  1834,  he  sailed  in  the  good  ship  "  Sully  "  for 
Europe,  bidding  farewell  to  the  land  of  his  birth,  which 
had  given  him  fame  and  fortune,  and  for  which  he 
entertained  a  Roman's  love  of  country.  Landing  at 
Havre,  he  went  directly  to  Paris,  to  enjoy  the  wonders 


N/S   VISITS   TO  EUROPE.  49 

of  that  glittering  capital,  so  dazzling  to  the  traveller  who 
looks  upon  her  for  the  first  time  that  all  the  senses  are 
lost  in  that  of  admiration.  Louis  Philippe,  the  Citizen 
King,  was  on  the  throne,  and  to  him  the  young  Demo- 
crat was  presented,  standing  somewhat  reluctantly  in  a 
deferential  attitude  before  a  royalty  which  in  his  heart 
he  despised.  His  only  royalties  were  those  of  God's 
creating,  —  genius  and  endeavor.  Upon  the  tomb  of 
Talma  he  laid  a  laurel  wreath,  feeling  sincere  reverence 
for  the  man  who  had  ennobled  his  calling,  and  who,  while 
sharing  the  close  friendship  of  the  great  Napoleon,  to 
whom  he  had  shown  kindness  when  kindness  was  rare 
to  that  child  of  Destiny,  refused  to  accept  any  favor  at 
his  hands  in  his  hours  of  triumph.  Among  those  who 
stood  at  the  brilliant  receptions  at  the  Tuileries,  dukes 
and  marshals,  princes  and  queens,  the  dignified  form 
of  Talma  could  be  seen  honored  by  the  smile  of  him 
before  whose  few  gifts  nobility  cringed  and  genius  de- 
graded itself.  Forrest  admired  Mademoiselle  Mars  as 
the  first  real  comedienne  he  had  seen,  and  even  in  the 
awkward  display  of  an  amateur  conservatoire  perform- 
ance he  detected  the  genius  which  afterwards  dazzled 
the  world  in  the  person  of  Rachel.  Passing  on  through 
Italy,  across  the  Alps,  he  stood  beside  the  gate  of  .\ltorf ; 
he  climbed  the  peaks  immortalized  by  Tell,  and  there, 
amid  the  solitudes  where  Swiss  liberty  was  born,  he 
shouted  with  wild  pleasure  the  lines  which  Knowles  has 
put  in  that  hero's  mouth  :  — 

"  Ye  crags  and  peaks,  I  'm  with  ye  once  again, 
I  call  to  you,  with  all  my  voice;  I  hold 
To  you  the  hands  you  first  beheld,  to  show 
They  still  are  free." 


50  EDWIN  FORREST. 

Actors  are  usually  dreamers,  and  how  must  Forrest 
have  enjoyed  his  realization  of  all  his  early  visions  and 
ambitions,  as  he  saw  the  scenes  through  which  he  had 
passed  in  mimic  life.  No  tourist  ever  visits  the  wonders 
of  the  Old  World  with  the  same  childish  delight  which 
fills  the  actor's  soul  who  sees  them  for  the  first  time. 
With  every  spot  the  name  of  Shakspere  is  associated? 
some  incident  or  line  suggesting  his  presence  in  those 
sacred  scenes. '  To  stand  in  Venice  and  recall  the  words 
of  the  Moor ;  to  fancy  he  can  see  here  the  footprints 
of  that  hero,  beside  whose  imaginative  glory  the  actual 
deeds  of  a  Dandolo  or  a  Foscari  pale  into  insignificance  ; 
to  cross  the  bridge  whereon  Antonio  had  "  many  a  time 
and  oft "  rated  old  Shylock  "  about  his  moneys  and 
his  usances,"  —  this  is  to  find  among  those  scenes,  be- 
side those  wave-washed  palaces,  such  realities  as  history 
cannot  furnish.  Contrasting  his  present  place  and  fu- 
ture hopes  with  those  to  which  in  his  youth  he  seemed 
destined,  Forrest  must  have  felt  a  rising  in  the  throat 
which  choked  all  utterance. 

He  went  to  Poland  and  to  Moscow ;  to  Constantino- 
ple, the  wretched  remains  of  the  proudest  empire  ever 
built  upon  the  miseries  of  mankind  ;  across  the  Euxine 
into  Asia  Minor ;  to  Africa  ;  to  Naples,  visiting  the  tomb 
of  Juliet ;  and  at  last  he  set  his  foot  upon  the  mother- 
land, that  shore  inlaid  with  the  mosaic  of  poetry  and 
history,  consecrated  to  all  that  is  grand  in  the  past  of 
that  race  from  which  we  draw  our  language,  our  glory, 
and  the  basis  of  our  laws,  the  land  of  Shakspere,  the 
birthplace  of  our  drama,  the  nursery  of  Burbage, .  of 
Betterton,  of  Garrick,   Macready,  Kean,  and  all  the 


ins   VISITS   TO  EUROPE.  51 

Kembles,  the  green  fields,  the  smiling  villages,  the  his- 
toric associations,  all  clustered  around  the  magic  name, 
England. 

Here  he  found  himself  surrounded  by  many  friends 
awaiting  to  do  him  honor  and  urging  him  to  act.  He 
yielded  so  far  to  this  pressure  as  to  consent  to  return 
at  once  from  America,  to  which  he  must  now  depart. 
He  had  been  absent  two  years  when  he  landed  in  New 
York,  early  in  September,  1836.  He  was  welcomed  by 
his  many  admirers  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  friend- 
ship, and  he  arranged  to  play  two  engagements  during 
the  brief  stay  he  was  to  make  before  his  return  to 
London. 

His  reappearance  at  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre,  Phil- 
adelphia, in  September,  was  the  occasion  of  an  ovation 
in  every  respect.  Hundreds  were  turned  away  from 
the  doors,  and  the  neighborhood  of  the  theatre  was 
thronged  with  those  who  had  failed  to  gain  admittance. 
He  played  Damon,  and,  on  his  entrance,  a  demonstra- 
tion took  place  unusual  even  in  a  theatre,  where  applause 
is  so  common.  Men  rose  to  their  feet  and  cheered, 
ladies  waved  their  handkerchiefs,  and  it  was  some  min- 
utes before  the  tumult  of  welcome  subsided  and  the 
play  was  allowed  to  proceed.  His  speech  at  the  close 
evoked  fresh  enthusiasm.  He  gave  six  performances 
only  on  this  occasion,  and  each  saw  a  repetition  of  the 
scene  at  the  beginning  of  the  engagement.  The  re- 
ceipts were  the  largest  ever  known  in  that  theatre.  His 
return  to  his  native  city  under  such  circumstances,  and 
the  rapturous  welcome  given  him,  where  those  he  loved 
could  share  in  his  pride,  touched  him  deeply.      He 


52  EDWIN  FORREST. 

bade  farewell  to  New  York  in  six  performances,  imme- 
diately following  those  given  in  Philadelphia,  and  his 
reception  in  that  city  was  equally  flattering.  The  scenes 
at  the  doors  were  repeated,  while  the  enthusiasm  of 
the  audience  seemed  to  pass  all  bounds.  He  played 
"  Othello,"  "  Lear,"  "  Damon  and  Pythias,"  "  Hamlet," 
"  Rolla,"  "  Metamora,"  and  "  Virginius,"  and  was  sup- 
ported by  such  artists  as  John  H.  Clarke  (as  /<2r^^),  John 
Mason  (as  Macduff),  Peter  Richings  (as  King  Clau- 
dius), Henry  Placide  (as  Folonius),  William  H.  Chip- 
'pendale  (as  the  Grave-digger),  W.  S.  Fredericks  (as 
Kent),  Mrs.  Sharpe  (as  Emelia  and  Ophelia),  Mrs. 
Richardson  (as  Desdemona),  and  Miss  Charlotte  Cush- 
man  (as  Queen  Gertrude  and  Goneril).  He  was  paid  five 
hundred  dollars  per  night,  and  the  receipts  were  about 
fifteen  hundred  dollars,  which  left  a  large  margin  of 
profit  to  the  delighted  manager  of  the  Park. 

On  the  19th  of  September,  1836,  Forrest  embarked 
once  more  for  the  mother-country,  this  time  with  seri- 
ous purpose.  After  a  speedy  and  uneventful  passage 
he  reached  England,  and  at  once  set  about  the  prelim- 
inary business  of  his  British  engagement,  which  began 
October  17,  1836.  He  was  the  first  really  great  Amer- 
ican actor  who  had  appeared  in  London  as  a  rival  of 
the  English  tragedians ;  for  Cooper  was  born  in  Eng- 
land, though  always  regarded  as  belonging  to  the 
younger  country. 

A  brief  summary  only  will  be  given  here  of  this  en- 
gagement ;  it  will  again  be  touched  upon  when  we  come 
to  speak  of  other  performances  in  Great  Britain,  and  the 
incidents  which  grew  out  of  them  at  home  and  abroad. 


O    ■! 


?55 


^s? 


fc    C3   t 


£•    I 


HIS   VISITS   TO  EUROPE.  53 

His  opening  part  was  Spartacus,  in  the  "  Gladiator." 
The  play  was  condemned,  the  actor  applauded.  In 
spite  of  the  special  fitness  which  he  showed  for  this 
character,  he  was  not  able  to  make  it  acceptable  to  the 
English  public.  They  acknowledged  the  vigor  of  his 
style,  the  ruggedness  of  his  methods,  and  appreciated 
all  the  magnetic  qualities  of  the  man ;  but  it  was  in  his 
Shaksperean  performances  that  they  recognized  and 
confessed  his  fitness  to  take  the  place  of  their  own 
great  actors.  In  Othello,  in  Lear,  and  in  Macbeth  he 
won  instant  fame.  The  audience  gave  their  applause 
spontaneously,  and  the  press  generally  spoke  in  his 
favor.  The  part  of  Damon,  however,  was  declared  to 
be  beneath  his  powers. 

He  began  his  engagement  October  17,  and  closed 
December  19,  having  acted  Macbeth  seven  times, 
Othello  nine,  and  King  Lear  eight. 

The  cast  of  the  "  Gladiator,"  at  Drury  Lane,  Octo- 
ber 17,1 836,  on  the  night  of  Mr.  Forrest's  first  appear- 
ance in  England,  is  worthy  of  preservation.  It  is  not 
to  be  found  in  any  of  the  more  extended  biographies 
of  the  actor. 

Marcus  Lucinius  Crassus Mr.  Warde. 

Gellius •.  Mr.  F.  Cooke. 

Lentulus Mr.  Hooper. 

JoRius Mr.  Bartley. 

Bracchius Mr.  Matthews. 

Florus Mr.  Brindal. 

Spartacus Mr.  E.  Forrest 

Thasarius Mr.  Cooper. 

Enomais Mr.  Baker. 

Crixus Mr.  Duruset. 


54  EDWIN  FORREST. 

MuMMius       Mr.  Mears. 

ScROPHA Mr.  Homier. 

Boy Miss  Marshall. 

Centurion T.  Matthews. 

Julia  (her  first  appearance) Mrs.  Hooper. 

Senona  (her  first  appearance  in  five  years)    .  Miss  Huddart. 

Of  this  occasion  the  London  Times,  October  i8, 
1836,  wrote  :  — 

"  Drury  Lane  Theatre.  —  Mr.  Edwin  Forrest,  who 
has  established  a  high  reputation  in  America,  his  native 
country,  as  a  tragedian,  appeared  for  the  first  time  before 
an  English  audience  at  this  theatre  last  night.  The  char- 
acter selected  for  his  dehit  was  that  of  Spartacus,  in  the 
tragedy  of  that  title,  written  by  Mr.  Bird,  also  an  Amer- 
ican. Mr.  Forrest  was  received  with  hearty  warmth, 
which  from  the  first  moment  of  his  appearance  left  no 
doubt,  if  any  could  have  been  entertained,  that  the  audi- 
ence were  well  disposed  to  accept  his  exertions  for  their 
entertainment.  He  is  a  tall,  rather  robust  man,  of  some 
thirty  years  of  age,  not  remarkably  handsome,  but  with 
expressive  features  and  that  cast  of  countenance  which  is 
well  suited  for  theatrical  effect.  His  voice  is  remarkably 
powerful,  his  figure  rather  vigorous  than  elegant,  and  his 
general  appearance  prepossessing.  The  subject  of  the 
tragedy  is  one  admirably  adapted  for  scenic  representa- 
tion, and  has  already  been  essayed  in  the  French  and 
German  theatres.  .  .  .  The  latter  part  of  the  play  is  less 
vigorous  than  the  former;  but  there  are  some  scenes  of 
stirring  interest,  in  which  Mr.  Forrest  made  a  powerful 
impression  on  the  audience.  The  poetry  of  the  drama  is 
rather  powerful  than  pohshed  ;  and  although  it  contains 
some  passages  of  considerable  beauty,  it  is  more  generally 
characterized  by  a  rough,  passionate  strain,  in  which 
gracefulness  is  sacrificed  to  force.  One  speech  in  which 
Spartacus  describes  the  beauty  of  his  Thracian  valleys 


HIS   VISITS  TO  EUROPE.  55 

before  the  invasion  of  the  Romans,  and  contrasts  it  with 
the  devastation  which  had  followed  their  footsteps,  struck 
•us  as  being  particularly  happy.  At  the  conclusion  of  the 
play  Mr.  Forrest  was  called  for,  and  began  to  address  the 
audience,  —  a  practice  not  usual  nor  safe,  at  least  on  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic.  He  thanked  them  for  the  reception 
they  had  bestowed  on  him,  and  expressed  his  satisfaction 
in  finding  in  that  reception  a  proof  of  their  good-will 
towards  America.  Now,  although  their  praises  were  warm 
and  hearty,  they  were  given  to  him  personally  and  simply 
because  they  thought  he  deserved  them,  and  would  have 
been  just  as  freely  bestowed  if  he  had  come  from  Kamt- 
schatka  as  from  New  York.  There  are  no  national  preju- 
dices between  an  audience  and  an  actor,  nor  anywhere 
else  in  this  country,  which  could  make  it  for  a  moment 
questionable  that  a  deserving  artist  would  be  well  received 
from  whatever  quarter  of  the  globe  he  arrived.  When, 
however,  Mr.  Forrest,  encouraged  by  the  applause,  began 
to  thank  them  for  the  favors  they  had  shown  to  the  trag- 
edy, he  provoked  some  dissent,  the  audience  not  seeming 
to  think  as  highly  of  the  poet  as  of  the  player.  So  Mr. 
Forrest  made  his  bow  and  retired. 

"  We  shall  be  glad  to  see  him  in  some  other  character, 
and  if  he  acquits  himself  hereafter  as  well  as  he  did  on 
this  occasion,  he  will  have  no  reason  to  be  dissatisfied 
with  his  voyage,  and  the  theatre  will  have  engaged  an  able 
performer,  who  to  very  considerable  skill  in  his  profession 
adds  the  attraction  of  a  somewhat  novel  and  a  much  more 
spirited  style  of  playing  than  any  other  tragic  actor  now 
on  our  stage." 

Henry  WikofT,  who  was  present  at  Forrest's  English 
debut y  gives  the  following  account  of  the  scene  :  — 

"  On  the  17th  of  October  [1836]  he  made  his  first  bow 
to  the  British  pubhc.     Old  Drury  was  crowded  from  pit 


56  EDWIN  FORREST. 

to  ceiling  with  an  eager  and  excited  audience.  All  the 
friends  of  the  popular  actors  of  the  day  congregated  in 
force.  The  American  minister  [Andrew  Stevenson,  of 
Virginia],  and  all  the  fellow-countrymen  of  Forrest,  were 
likewise  present.  There  was  silence  until  Spartacus,  the 
Gladiator,  came  forward,  when  a  hearty  shout  of  welcome 
broke  forth  from  all  parts  of  the  house.  His  magnificent 
person  astonished  those  who  had  never  seen  him  ;  his 
rich  and  powerful  voice  thrilled  all  who  had  not  heard 
it ;  his  earnest,  impassioned  acting  quite  electrified  the 
audience.  At  the  end  he  was  overwhelmed  with  ap- 
plause, and  it  was  plain  he  had  secured  a  hold  on  British 
sympathies,  which  he  never  lost.  There  was  a  clique 
present  who  were  disappointed  by  his  success,  and  when 
he  appeared,  at  the  general  demand,  to  make  his  acknowl- 
edgments, they  raised  the  cry  of '  Shakspere,  Shakspere  ! ' 
Their  object  was  evident.  The  partisans  of  the  popular 
actors  of  the  time  knew  it  would  be  easier  to  arouse 
opposition  to  a  foreigner  should  he  attempt  a  role  the 
public  were  accustomed  to  see  played  according  to  the 
idiosyncrasies  of  the  tragedians  who  had  successfully 
assumed  them,  and  which  only  proved  my  judgment 
was  correct  in  suggesting  an  original  part  for  Forrest's 

<mtit:' 

Besides  the  direct  glories  of  the  theatre,  social  cour- 
tesies were  tendered  Forrest.  The  then  unusual  honor 
of  a  dinner  at  the  Garrick  Club  was  offered  and  accepted. 
Here  he  sat  down  with  Charles  Kemble  and  Macready. 
Sergeant  Talfourd  was  in  the  chair,  and  a  host  of  Eng- 
land's greatest  men  filled  the  spacious  room.  It  was 
during  this  engagement  that  he  first  met  the  lady  whom 
he  afterwards  married,  —  Miss  Catherine  Sinclair.  Thus 
his  first  engagement  in  England  resulted,  to  all  appear- 


HIS   VISITS  TO  EUROPE.  57 

ance,  happily,  leading  to  new  alliances,  dramatic  and 
domestic,  to  financial  prosperity  and  general  esteem. 

His  return  to  America  was  the  signal  for  ovations  of 
every  kind,  social  and  professional.  He  now  enjoyed 
great  public  favor,  and  horses,  steamers,  and  carriages 
were  called  by  the  name  of  America's  greatest  actor. 
He  resumed  his  American  engagements  on  the  15  th  of 
November,  1837,  at  the  old  Chestnut  Street  Theatre, 
Pljiladelphia,  where  he  played  for  one  month  to  over- 
flowing houses.  On  the  nth  of  December  a  great 
banquet  was  tendered  him  by  Nicholas  Biddle,  Hon. 
J.  R.  Ingersoll,  Dr.  Samuel  Jackson,  Colonel  John 
B.  Wetherill,  Hon.  John  Swift,  Colonel  James  Page, 
Morton  McMichael,  Robert  T.  Conrad,  Robert  Morris, 
and  other  distinguished  gentlemen  of  his  native  city. 
The  speech  of  the  evening  was  by  Chief  Justice  Gib- 
son, who  gave  as  a  toast,  "  The  Stage  and  its  Master." 
Forrest's  reply  was  in  excellent  taste,  and  his  allusions 
to  his  own  early  days  in  his  native  place,  his  struggles, 
his  encouragements,  and,  lastly,  the  present  happy  re- 
sult, were  received  with  great  enthusiasm. 

He  now  entered  upon  his  regular  engagements 
through  the  different  cities  of  the  Union,  meeting  every- 
where with  the  same  success,  amassing  a  fortune,  and 
enjoying  the  intimacy  of  some  of  the  best  spirits  of 
the  land.  He  had  reached  the  summit  of  his  fame. 
The  idol  of  a  nation,  high  in  honor,  happy  in  wealth, 
married  to  a  young  and  lovely  woman  who  could  sym- 
pathize with  all  his  lofty  aspirations,  —  who  could  fore- 
tell disaster  from  such  a  happy  and  fortuitous  condition 
of  aflairs? 


58  EDWIN  FORREST. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE   ASTOR   PLACE   RIOT. 


''  I  ^HE  fatal  riot  which  occurred  in  Astor  Place  was 
-■-  the  culmination  of  a  quarrel  between  Forrest  and 
Macready,  which  had  been  growing  for  years.  Other 
events  of  Forrest's  life  were  so  involved  in  the  career  of 
Macready  that  a  sketch  of  the  latter  will  not  be  out  of 
place  here.  William  Charles  Macready  was  not  destined 
by  his  parents  for  a  player's  Hfe,  although  he  was  the  son 
of  a  celebrated  country  actor  and  manager,  who  had 
conducted  one  of  the  great  English  circuits  for  several 
years  with  varying  success,  playing  important  characters 
himself.  William  was  sent  to  a  preparatory  school  with 
the  intention  of  giving  him  the  advantages  of  a  univer- 
sity training.  Disaster  came  to  the  affairs  of  the  father, 
however,  and  the  education  of  the  son  was  interrupted 
just  at  the  moment  when  he  was  about  to  mount  to  a 
high  place  in  the  school.  Disappointed  at  this  con- 
dition of  things,  but  with  much  honesty  of  purpose,  he 
turned  to  the  profession  of  his  father,  taking  his  place 
in  the  active  management  of  the  circuit,  and  at  last 
making  his  appearance  as  an  actor.  He  had  many  op- 
portunities for  study,  although  as  much  work  on  his 
hands  as   he  could  well  perform.     He  succeeded  in 


THE  AS  TOR  PLACE  RIOT  59 

placing  the  family  affairs  on  a  more  prosperous  footing, 
paid  the  pressing  debts  of  his  father,  and,  after  several 
years  of  provincial  work,  found  a  place  at  last  in  Lon- 
don, that  metropolis  towards  which  the  provincial  Eng- 
lish actor  looks  with  hungry  longing. 

'  Macready  was  a  scholar,  and  he  was  a  worker ;  but 
he  had  no  love  for  his  calling.  It  had  robbed  him  of 
the  prize  which  seemed  so  close  to  his  hand,  —  a  good 
social  position  and  lettered  ease.  Diligently  he  strove 
to  rise  from  the  lower  ranks  of  his  new  profession, 
but  the  superior  qualities  of  his  rivals  stood  ever  in  his 
way.  He  seemed  to  possess  none  of  the  requisites 
for  an  actor,  save  industry;  he  was  gaunt  and  an- 
gular, had  an  unmusical  voice  and  an  awkward  man- 
ner, possessing  none  of  that  magnetic  quality  which 
wins  the  auditor  oftentimes  before  the  interest  of  the 
character  has  unfolded  itself  in  the  plot ;  but  he  was 
an  enormous  worker,  with  a  soul  boiling  against  his 
surroundings.  With  an  ambition  which  jealousy  tinc- 
tured and  made  contemptible,  he  spared  no  pains,  he 
shunned  no  task  which  could  help  him  on  towards  the 
height  on  which  his  eyes  were  fixed.  The  heavy  parts 
in  the  plays  fell  to  him,  and  his  manner  suited  them 
admirably.  He  contended  with  such  theatrical  giants 
as  the  last  of  the  Kembles,  Charles  Young,  Junius 
Brutus  Booth,  and  Edmund  Keaii.  His  style  was  un- 
like theirs  ;  his  work  was  cold,  full  of  scholarship  and  of 
study,  but  not  impulsive  or  spontaneous.  He  was  com- 
pelled to  give  place  for  many  years  to  men  whose  ex- 
cellence and  superiority  he  never  would  confess ;  but 
they  were  the  idols  of  the  public,  and  by  their  side 


6o  EDWIN  FORREST. 

Macready  never  held  any  other  than  a  subordinate  rank. 
It  is  said  that  when  the  play  of  the  "  Apostate  "  was 
brought  to  the  theatre  by  the  author,  the  elder  Booth, 
who  was  enamored  of  Miss  O'Neill,  then  the  darling  of 
the  London  public,  and  the  greatest  actress  of  her  day, 
declined  the  part  of  Pescara,  the  villain,  which  he 
afterwards  made  so  famous,  and  demanded  that  of 
Hcmeya,  the  lover  of  Florinda,  that  he  might  play  the 
love  scenes  with  the  O'Neill.  This  incident  placed  the 
part  in  Macready's  hands ;  and  it  was  the  first  great  hit 
he  had  made  in  London.  The  character  was  soon  re- 
sumed by  Booth,  for  whom  it  was  intended,  and  never 
afterwards  acted  by  Macready.  At  length,  one  by  one, 
the  great  men  who  had  been  in  the  way  of  his  advance- 
ment were  removed,  and  he  stood  in  the  front  rank  of 
his  profession.  All  the  harshness  of  his  nature  now  ap- 
peared ;  he  became  haughty  and  offensive  to  all  about 
him,  subservient  only  to  the  aristocracy,  but  still  working 
at  his  art  with  the  spirit  of  a  slave  at  the  galleys.  He  was 
of  an  economical  nature,  and  soon  accumulated  m^ans. 
He  quarrelled  with  and  left  his  old  manager,  and,  aided 
by  the  wealthy  friends  whom  he  had  never  failed  to  pro- 
pitiate, became  himself  a  manager,  inaugurating  a  series 
of  revivals  of  old  plays  magnificent  beyond  the  experi- 
ence of  that  day.  His  research  and  scholarship  at- 
tracted to  the  theatre  learned  men,  and  he  gave  a 
healthy  impetus  to  dramatic  taste  which  will  ever  be 
his  crown.  He  put  himself  prominently  forward  in 
these  revivals,  but  they  were  none  the  less  creditable 
and  admirable.  His  career  as  a  manager  was  marked 
by  tyranny  and  cruelty.     He  had  no  friends  in  those 


THE  AS  TOR  PLACE  RIOT.  6 1 

who  served  him  ;  he  allowed  no  rivals  to  stand  between 
him  and  the  public.  When  Ryder  once  remonstrated 
with  him  upon  some  occasion  of  punished  insubordina- 
tion, and  told  him  he  was  a  tyrant,  Macready  replied  : 
"  No,  sir ;  I  am  not  a  tyrant.  I  am  a  despot."  He 
dearly  loved  a  lord ;  he  dearly  hated  his  profession,  — 
but  it  gave  him  all  he  had ;  without  it  he  would  be 
nothing.  Like  Congreve,  before  him,  he  had  a  snob's 
contempt  for  his  art,  and  was  more  proud  of  his  social 
position  than  of  his  reputation  as  an  actor,  well  merit- 
ing from  the  Voltaires  of  his  day  the  rebuke  of  the  old 
French  philosopher  who,  on  the  well-known  occasion 
of  his  visit  to  the  author  of  "  The  Double  Dealer  "  and 
"  Love  for  Love,"  so  pointedly  declared  that  he  had 
called,  not  upon  Congreve  the  gentleman,  but  upon 
Congreve  the  writer,  adding,  "  If  you  had  been  no 
more  than  a  gentleman,  sir,  I  would  not  have  been 
here." 

Macready,  however,  attracted  to  the  theatre  some  of 
the  ablest  contemporary  writers;  and  the  best  stage 
editions  of  the  plays  of  his  time  are  those  which  bear 
the  marks  of  his  directing  talent.  He  was  the  original 
of  more  than  one  hundred  characters,  and  became  at 
last  recognized  as  the  great  representative  English  actor. 
He  was  the  friend  of  Bulwer,  of  Dickens,  of  Forster, 
and  of  Talfourd,  and  was  so  tenacious  of  what  he  con- 
sidered his  dignity  that  he  never  permitted  his  children 
to  see  him  in  any  of  his  characters  for  fear  they  might 
conceive  contempt  for  his  authority.  He  was  a  despot 
at  home  as  well  as  in  the  theatre.  He  kept  a  diary 
which  speaks  wonders  for  his  diligence  and  his  industry. 


62  EDWIN  FORREST. 

but  shows  the  violent,  impetuous  nature  that  was  con- 
stantly leading  him  into  difficulties,  as  constantly,  how- 
ever, to  be  regretted  on  bended  knees.  Some  parts  of 
this  diary  resemble  the  Confessions  of  Rousseau.  He 
seemed  to  bear  a  scourging  monitor  within  his  breast, 
and  that  monitor  was  ever  applying  the  scourge. 

His  performances  were  models  of  mechanism,  they 
lacked  the  divine  spark  which  is  called  genius,  but  were 
yet  penetrated  by  an  intelligence  which  gave  them  un- 
usually attractive  power.  He  was  greatest  in  such  parts 
as  Richelieu,  Werner,  and  Cassius,  where  a  certain  an- 
gularity of  mind  and  body  are  not  out  of  place,  and 
where  a  dry  subtlety  and  a  studied  declamation  are  ac- 
cepted in  lieu  of  magnetic  powers.  No  two  men  could 
be  more  unlike  than  were  Macready  and  Forrest,  —  the 
one  scholarly,  mechanical,  cold,  laboring  without  love 
in  the  hard  traces  of  his  profession ;  the  other  open, 
frank,  and  an  ardent  lover  of  whatever  he  was  called 
upon  in  his  art  to  do.  A  good  ilfustration  of  the  self- 
consciousness  of  Macready  is  given  in  one  of  the  pages 
of  his  diary.  He  is  going  to  the  first  performance  of 
Bulwer's  "Money,"  after  many  rehearsals,  and  much 
care  on  his  part ;  and  he  ingenuously  notes  that  "  he  is 
certain  the  play  will  fail  because  there  are  two  other 
good  parts  in  the  piece."  These  are  the  conflicting 
elements  which  form  the  character  of  one  of  the  most 
noted  actors  of  his  age,  or  any  age  ;  but  when  all  is  said, 
common  justice  demands  the  acknowledgment  that  the 
modern  theatre  owes  more  to  the  industry  of  William 
Macready  than  to  the  example  of  any  other  actor  who 
preceded  or  followed  him.    The  stage  needed  just  such 


THE  AS  TOR  PLACE  RIOT.  63 

a  laborer  to  show  to  the  followers  of  Edmund  Kean  that 
genius  alone  is  not  able  to  advance  the  highest  purpose 
of  any  art.  By  his  constant  and  untiring  will  he  per- 
formed a  herculean  task,  and  he  restored  to  the  stage 
a  more  careful  and  more  cultivated  study  of  its  aims 
and  ends.  With  all  the  elaboration  of  modern  French 
comedy  he  united  some  of  the  deepest  subtleties  of  the 
old  masters  of  the  dramatic  art ;  and  the  weird  tragedy 
of  "  Macbeth  "  under  his  skilful  mechanism  was  en- 
dowed with  such  an  amount  of  faithful  detail  that  the 
play  became  almost  a  new  work,  and  gave  his  own 
performance  a  place  beyond  the  power  of  any  rival. 
No  career  is  so  instructive  to  the  young  actor  as  that 
of  Macready,  in  spite  of  the  offensive  nature  of  the 
man. 

He  occupied  a  place  in  the  English  theatre  which  at 
his  retirement  remained  vacant  for  twenty  years,  until 
Henry  Irving  advanced  to  fill  it  with  some  of  the  same 
powerful  qualities  of  his  predecessor,  much  of  his  in- 
dustry, but  none  of  his  coldness  for  his  fellow-men. 
Macready's  life  was  that  of  a  scholar,  a  gendeman,  and 
a  good  citizen.  He  fulfilled  all  the  requirements  of  his 
social  life,  and  retired  at  last  from  an  art  which  he  hated, 
rich  in  fortime,  fame,  and  friends.  True  to  his  princi- 
ples to  the  last  hour  of  his  professional  life,  he  is  said 
to  have  told  his  servant,  when  he  was  going  to  take  his 
leave  forever  of  the  pubhc,  to  "  hold  the  curtain  close 
when  he  came  off,  that  he  might  not  be  annoyed  by  the 
adieus  of  those  actors."  He  never  concealed  his  con- 
tempt for  Charles  Kean,  who  rivalled  him  in  his  last 
years,  and  of  whom  he  always  spoke  as  "  the  son  of  his 


64  EDWIN  FORREST. 

father."  Enough  has  been  shown  of  Macready's  hfe  to 
make  it  clear  that  when  Forrest  went  to  England,  he 
was  likely  to  find  that  actor's  friendship  warm  or  cold, 
as  he  succeeded  or  failed.  Macready  had  appeared  in 
America  in  1826,  playing  in  New  York,  Philadelphia, 
and  other  large  cities,  but  with  moderate  success.  His 
style  was  not  pleasing  to  the  masses,  more  used  to  the 
robust  method  of  Cooper  or  the  fiery  genius  of  Booth, 
although  he  attracted  the  notice  of  scholars  and  the 
polite  circles  generally.  He  had  brought  letters  which 
gave  him  the  entree  to  many  hospitable  houses,  but  his 
friends  could  not  stir  up  popular  feeling  in  his  favor. 
He  returned  in  1827,  feehng  that  he  had  not  been  ap- 
preciated here. 

He  was  courteous  to  Forrest  on  his  first  visit,  and  a 
seeming  friendship  sprang  up  between  the  two  men. 
Macready  was  an  old  friend  of  the  lady  who  became 
the  wife  of  Forrest,  and  they  often  met  under  Sinclair's 
roof.  He  was  one  of  the  honored  guests  at  the  cere- 
mony of  their  marriage,  and  seemed  happy  in  the  suc- 
cess which  the  young  actor  was  gaining  in  a  foreign 
land.  Years  passed  on,  and  Macready  came  again  to 
America,  reappearing  in  1843.  Forrest  was  then  at 
the  height  of  his  fame,  and  the  performances  of  Mac- 
ready  compared  unfavorably  in  the  mind  of  the  pub- 
lic with  those  of  their  own  actor.  The  papers  entered 
into  a  wordy  discussion  upon  the  merits  of  the  rival 
stars,  and  considerable  feeling  was  aroused  on  both 
sides,  national  jealousy  often  stepping  in  to  make  mat- 
ters worse.  Macready  returned  to  his  own  country 
with  hatred  in  his  heart  for  the  man  who  had  been  the 


THE  ASTOR  PLACE  RIOT.  65 

cause,  as  he  thought,  of  his  second  American  failure. 
When  Forrest  went  to  Lx)ndon  in  1845,  he  was  met  on 
the  night  of  his  opening  with  a  storm  of  hisses,  and  he 
was  compelled  after  a  few  nights  to  give  up  his  engage- 
ment and  retire.  Forrest  at  once  charged  the  violence 
of  his  reception  upon  Macready,  whether  justly  or  un- 
justly can  never  be  known,  and  declared  that  by  his 
means  John  Forster  and  a  clique  of  London  critics  had 
joined  together  to  write  and  hiss  him  down.  The  jour- 
nals which  on  his  former  visit  had  been  loud  in  his 
praises  could  now  find  no  words  strong  enough  to 
paint  his  barbarous  faults. 

Social  intercourse  was  broken  off  by  Forrest,  who  held 
Macready  directly  responsible  for  his  reception.  He 
travelled  through  the  provinces,  and  at  Edinburgh  one 
night,  while  sitting  in  a  box  to  see  Macready's  Hamlet, 
he  was  foolish  enough  to  hiss  him  in  what  he  called  a 
pas  de  mouchoir  in  the  play  scene.  This  act,  opposed 
to  good  taste,  and  the  duty  which  the  actor  owes  to 
his  public  and  to  himself,  was  at  once  reported  in 
the  newspapers,  and  led  to  letters  of  crimination  and 
recrimination,  which  made  the  quarrel  an  open  scan- 
dal, not  only  in  England,  but  in  America,  where  the 
articles  were  copied  and  read  by  the  friends  and  foes 
of  both  men. 

Mr.  Macready's  first  impressions  of  this  unfortunate 
affair,  recorded  in  his  diary,  are  interesting  here,  and 
are  quoted  in  full :  — 

"  Edinburgh,  March  2, 1846.  —  Acted  Hamlet,  really 
with  panicular  care,  energy,  and  discrimination.     The  au- 
dience gave  less  applause  to  the  first  soliloquy  than  I  am 
5 


66  EDWIN  FORREST. 

in  the  habit  of  receiving ;  but  I  was  bent  on  acting  the 
part,  and  I  felt,  if  I  can  feel  at  all,  that  I  had  strongly 
excited  them,  and  that  their  sympathies  were  cordially, 
indeed  enthusiastically,  with  me.  On  reviewing  the  per- 
formance, I  can  conscientiously  pronounce  it  one  of  the 
very  best  I  have  given  of  Hamlet.  At  the  waving  of  the 
handkerchief  before  the  play,  and  '  I  must  be  idle,'  a  man 
on  the  right  side  of  the  stage  —  upper  boxes  or  gallery, 
but  said  to  be  upper  boxes  —  hissed  !  The  audience 
took  it  up,  and  I  waved  the  more,  and  bowed  derisively 
and  contemptuously  to  the  individual.  The  audience  car- 
ried it,  though  he  was  very  stanch  to  his  purpose.  It 
discomposed  me,  and,  alas  !  might  have  ruined  many  ;  but 
I  bore  it  down.  I  thought  of  speaking  to  the  audience, 
if  called  on,  and  spoke  to  Murray  about  it,  but  he, 
very  discreetly,  dissuaded  me.  Was  called  for  and  very 
warmly  greeted.  Ryder  came  and  spoke  to  me,  and  told 
me  that  the  hisser  was  observed,  and  said  to  be  a  Mr. 

W ,  who  was  in  company  with   Mr.   Forrest.       The 

man  writes  in  the  Journal^  a  paper  depreciating  me  and 
eulogizing  Mr.  F.,  sent  to  me  from  this  place." 

Forrest  came  back  to  his  own  country  with  a  raging 
heart  against  England  and  Englishmen,  and  particularly 
against  William  C.  Macready.  The  case  became  an 
international  one,  —  the  quarrel  of  John  Bull  and  his 
young  offspring,  Brother  Jonathan.  Forrest's  reception 
became  a  matter  of  patriotism  ;  the  Democracy  rallied 
as  one  man  to  vindicate  his  honor  and  that  of  the  na- 
tion insulted  in  his  person.  It  was  well  known  that, 
while  he  had  been  denied  a  fair  hearing  in  London,  on 
account,  perhaps,  of  Macready's  secret  opposition,  he 
had  gained  the  applause  of  all  the  provinces  through 


THE  ASTOR  PLACE  RIOT.  6/ 

which  he  played  immediately  after  his  London  failure  ; 
but  this  fact  did  not  weigh  in  the  minds  of  his  ardent 
friends.  A  storm  was  brewing  which  only  waited  the 
return  of  Macready  to  burst  and  scatter  death  and  de- 
struction in  its  course. 

It  was  during  this  interval  —  in  June,  1847  —  that 
Edwin  Forrest's  mother  died,  an  event  which  gave  his 
heart  a  shock  more  violent  than  any  it  had  before  known. 
Her  death  lent  a  sombre  coloring  to  the  joy  with  which 
fame  and  success  in  his  art  were  now  filling  his  soul,  and 
over  her  grave  he  shed  bitter  tears. 

In  September,  1848,  Macready  returned  to  America. 
A  plan  was  formed,  but  defeated  by  Forrest  to  whom 
it  was  submitted,  that  Macready  should  be  hissed 
from  the  stage.  Macready,  in  one  of  his  speeches 
before  the  curtain,  unwisely  alluded  to  this  rumored  at- 
tempt, in  order,  it  seemed,  to  gain  sympathy  for  him- 
self. He  was  openly  hissed  in  Forrest's  native  city, 
and  there,  before  the  curtain,  alluded  to  the  scene  in 
Edinburgh,  where  Forrest  had  hissed  him.  Forrest 
replied  to  this  in  a  violent  and  ungentlemanly  letter  the 
next  day  in  the  public  prints.  Macready  responded, 
and  threatened  a  lawsuit.  Forrest  had  stigmatized  him 
as  an  "aged  driveller,"  Macready  then  being  a  little 
more  than  fifty  years  of  age.  In  a  subsequent  "  card  " 
Forrest  declared  that  he  solemnly  believed  Macready 
had  instigated  his  friends  in  England  to  write  him 
down,  and  to  drive  him  from  the  field. 

The  honors  in  this  wordy  squabble  were  all  with  Mac- 
ready,  who  preserved  his  dignity  while  defending  his 
cause.     Forrest's  outbreaks  were  in  direct  violation  of 


68  EDWIN  FORREST. 

good  taste.  The  papers  were  full  of  the  quarrel,  and 
different  sides  were  taken  by  Americans  as  well  as 
foreigners.  The  following  "  card,"  from  the  Philadel- 
phia PeJinsylvanian  of  November  22,  1848,  is  emi- 
nently characteristic  of  Forrest,  and  will  give  a  fair 
idea  of  the  manner  in  which  the  wordy  war  was  waged 
on  his  part :  — 

"  Mr.  Macready,  in  his  speech  last  night  to  the  audi- 
ence assembled  at  the  Arch  Street  Theatre,  made  allusion, 
I  understand,  to  an  *  American  actor '  who  had  the  temerity 
on  one  occasion  '  openly  to  hiss  him.'  This  is  true,  and, 
by  the  way,  the  only  truth  which  I  have  been  enabled  to 
gather  from  the  whole  scope  of  his  address.  But  why  say 
'an  American  actor'  ?  Why  not  openly  charge  me  with 
the  act?  for  I  did  it,  and  publicly  avowed  it  in  The  Times 
newspaper,  of  London,  and  at  the  same  time  asserted  my 
right  to  do  so. 

"On  the  occasion  alluded  to,  Mr.  Macready  introduced 
a  fancy  dance  into  his  performance  of  Hamlet,  which  I 
designated  as  a  pas  de  motichoir,  and  which  I  hissed,  for 
I  thought  it  a  desecration  of  the  scene  ;  and  the  audience 
thought  so,  too  ;  for,  a  few  nights  afterwards,  when  Mr. 
Macready  repeated  the  part  of  Hamlet  with  the  same 
'  tomfoolery,'  the  intelligent  audience  greeted  it  with  an  • 
universal  hiss. 

"  Mr.  Macready  is  stated  to  have  said  last  night  that 
he  '  had  never  entertained  towards  me  a  feeling  of  un- 
kindness.'  I  unhesitatingly  pronounce  this  to  be  a  wilful 
and  unblushing  falsehood.  I  most  solemnly  aver,  and  do 
believe,  that  Mr.  Macready,  instigated  by  his  narrow,  en- 
vious mind  and  selfish  fears,  did  secretly  —  not  openly  — 
suborn  several  writers  for  the  English  press  to  write  me 
down.     Among  them  was  one  Forster,  a  '  toady '  of  the 


THE  AS  TOR  PLACE  RIOT.  69 

eminent  tragedian,  —  one  who  is  ever  ready  to  do  his  dirty 
work  ;  and  this  Forster,  at  the  bidding  of  his  patron,  at- 
taclced  me  in  print,  even  before  I  had  appeared  upon 
the  London  boards,  and  continued  to  abuse  me  at  every 
opportunity  afterwards. 

*'  I  assert  also,  and  solemnly  believe,  that  Mr.  Mac- 
ready  connived,  when  his  friends  went  to  the  theatre  in 
London,  to  hiss  me,  and  did  hiss  me,  with  the  purpose  of 
driving  me  from  the  stage;  and  all  this  happened  many 
months  before  the  affair  at  Edinburgh,  to  which  Mr. 
Macready  refers,  and  in  relation  to  which  he  jesuitically 
remarks,  that  '  until  that  act  he  never  entertained  to- 
wards me  a  feeling  of  unkindness.'.  Pah !  Mr.  Mac- 
ready  has  no  feeling  of  kindness  for  any  actor  who  is 
likely  by  his  talent  to  stand  in  his  way.  His  whole 
course  as  manager  and  as  actor  proves  this.  There  is 
nothing  in  him  but  self — self — self;  and  his  own  coun- 
trymen, the  English  actors,  know  this  vcell.  Mr.  Mac- 
ready  has  a  very  lively  imagination,  and  often  draws 
upon  it  for  his  facts.  He  said,  in  a  speech  at  New  York, 
that  there  also  there  was  an  '  organized  opposition '  to  him, 
which  is  likewise  false.  There  was  no  opposition  mani- 
fested towards  him  there,  for  I  was  in  the  city  at  the 
time,  and  careful  to  watch  every  movement  with  regard  to 
such  a  matter.  Many  of  my  friends  called  upon  me  when 
Mr.  Macready  was  announced  to  perform,  and  proposed 
to  drive  him  from  the  stage,  for  his  conduct  to  me  in 
London.  My  advice  was,  do  nothing ;  let  the  superan- 
nuated driveller  alone ;  to  oppose  him  would  be  but  to 
make  him  of  some  importance.  My  friends  agreed  with 
me  that  it  was  at  least  the  most  dignified  course  to  pur- 
sue ;  and  it  was  immediately  adopted.  With  regard  to  an 
'organized  opposition'  to  him  in  Boston,  that  is,  I  believe, 
equally  false.    But  perhaps,  in  charity  to  the  poor  old 


70  EDWIN  FORREST, 

man,  I  should  impute  these  '  chimeras  dire  '  rather  to  the 
disturbed  state  of  his  guihy  conscience  than  to  any  desire 
on  his  part  wilfully  to  misrepresent." 

On  the  7th  of  May,  1848,  Macready  began  an  en- 
gagement at  the  Astor  Place  Opera  House,  under 
the  management  of  J.  H.  Hackett.  The  theatre  was 
packed  by  his  enemies,  and  he  was  hooted  from  the 
stage.  He  prepared  to  return  to  his  own  country,  but 
was  persuaded  by  his  friends  to  remain,  in  order  that 
he  might  see  how  far  the  pubhc  indorsed  the  opposition 
against  him.  An  invitation  to  this  effect,  signed  by 
many  of  the  best  citizens  of  New  York,  was  taken  as  a 
defiance  by  the  admirers  of  Forrest,  who  prepared  to 
meet  the  issue.  Forrest  was  playing  at  the  Broadway 
Theatre,  and  on  the  i6th  of  May  Macready,  at  the 
Astor  Place  house,  was  announced  to  reappear  as  ATac- 
beth.  The  authorities  had  been  called  to  the  aid  of  the 
signers  of  the  call,  and  when  the  doors  were  opened 
the  theatre  was  instantly  filled  by  a  crowd  of  persons 
favorable  to  the  actor,  while  the  great  mass  of  his  ene- 
mies were  excluded.  These  filled  the  street,  however, 
while  the  few  who  did  gain  admission  showed  their 
opposition  upon  the  appearance  of  Macready.  At  the 
first  attempt  the  assailants  were  confronted  by  a  body 
of  Macready's  friends  within  the  theatre  too  powerful  to 
be  resisted ;  but  the  majority  without  added  a  threat- 
ening reinforcement  when  the  decisive  moment  for  vio- 
lence should  arrive. 

The  play  "was  stopped,  Macready,  hustled  from  the 
back  door,  in  the  cloak  of  a  friend,  barely  escaped  with 
his  life,  and  the  mimic  tragedy  within  doors  gave  way 


THE  ASTOR  PLACE  RIOT.  7 1 

to  the  approaching  real  tragedy  without.  The  theatre 
was  attacked  on  all  sides  by  the  mob,  and  its  destruc- 
tion seemed  inevitable.  Troops  were  called  out,  the 
order  was  given  to  disperse,  the  angry  crowd  only 
hooted  a  reply  of  derision,  the  riot  act  was  read  amid 
the  yells  and  oaths  of  the  blood-seeking  rabble,  stones 
and  missiles  were  hurled  at  the  Seventh  Regiment,  the 
police  ^ve  way  before  the  overpowering  numbers  of 
the  mob,  and  at  last,  the  soldiers,  sore  pressed,  wounded, 
and  nearly  demoralized  by  the  assaults  which  they  were 
not  allowed  to  repulse,  were  called  upon  to  fire.  They 
responded  with  blank  cartridges,  which  only  increased 
the  fury  of  the  crowd.  A  pause,  and  then  the  order 
was  given  to  load  with  balls.  A  volley  was  fired ;  the 
cries  were  hushed,  the  smoke  cleared  away,  the  ground 
was  red  with  the  blood  of  some  thirty  unfortunate  men, 
the  rioters  vanished  into  the  darkness  before  that  hail  of 
wrath,  and  the  stain  of  blood  was  upon  that  quarrel 
which  began  far  away  in  Old  England  and  ended  so 
tragically  here. 

Macready  returned  home  full  of  manly  regret  for 
the  horror  which  had  clouded  his  American  visit,  and 
Forrest  at  once  lost  the  support  of  what  is  called  the 
*'  upper  classes "  of  his  own  people.  This  quarrel 
with  Macready  has  been  given  at  some  length,  be- 
cause it  exercised  an  important  influence  upon  the 
career  of  Forrest.  The  right  which  he  claimed  to  hiss 
a  brother  actor  cannot  be  defended.  He  was  too 
great  a  man  to  descend  to  such  pitiful  revenge.  He 
was,  however,  now  more  than  ever  an  object  of  interest 
to  his  more  humble  admirers ;  and  certain  ardent  patri- 


72  EDWIN  FORREST. 

ots  saw  in  him,  or  fancied  they  did,  a  champion  of 
American  resistance  to  English  assumption.  He  Hved 
to  learn  that  the  fame  of  a  great  actor,  so  hard  to  at- 
tain, is  still  harder  to  keep.  Like  the  most  delicate 
lace,  one  flaw  will  cause  the  destruction  of  the  whole 
fabric. 


DOMESTIC  LIFE.  73 


CHAPTER    VII. 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


THE  lady  who  became  the  wife  of  Edwin  Forrest 
was  Miss  Catherine  Sinclair.  Her  father  was  a 
man  of  some  celebrity  in  musical  circles,  and  his  home 
was  the  resort  of  men  and  women  of  taste  and  culture, 
and  one  of  the  art  centres  of  London.  The  accom- 
plishments of  Miss  Sinclair  were  the  admiration  of  her 
home  circle,  while  her  beauty  attracted  to  her  side  a 
host  of  adorers.  Even  in  a  society  where  physical  and 
mental  beauty  are  not  uncommon  qualities  in  the  fe- 
male sex,  the  claims  of  Miss  Sinclair  were  allowed  pre- 
eminence. She  was  the  lifelong  friend  of  Macready, 
and  at  her  home  he  often  met  Forrest,  even  after  the 
first  seeds  of  the  quarrel  were  sown.  The  affection 
which  sprang  up  in  the  breast  of  Forrest  on  his  presen- 
tation to  Miss  Sinclair  was  reciprocated  by  the  fair  ob- 
ject of  his  love,  and  the  parental  consent  was  given  to 
their  union.  Henry  Wikoff,  a  friend  of  Forrest's  and 
the  Sinclairs,  who  was  present  at  their  marriage,  thus 
describes  it  in  his  "  Reminiscences  of  an  Idler :  "  — 

"  In  the  latter  part  of  June  [1837]  the  marriage  of  For- 
rest took  place  in  the  church  of  the  parish  he  was  living 
in,  St.  Paul's,  Covent  Garden,  which  was  built  in  1633, 


74  EDWIN  FORREST. 

and  is  said  to  contain  the  remains  of  more  celebrities  than 
any  church  in  London,  save  Westminster  Abbey.  It  was 
there  the  handsome  actor,  Wilham  O'Brien,  married  his 
runaway  bride,  Lady  Susan  Strongways,  eldest  daughter 
of  the  Earl  of  Ilchester.  Only  a  limited  number  of  the  tra- 
gedian's friends  were  invited,  as  he  desired  to  avoid  any- 
thing like  a  sensational  display.  Among  these  were  the 
American  minister  and  his  wife,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Bates, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dunlop,  and  Miss  Gamble,  with  some  oth- 
ers. The  Rev.  John  Croly,  the  biographer  of  George  IV,, 
officiated.  I  had  the  honor  of  figuring  as  Forrest's  only 
groomsman,  or,  as  they  call  it  here,  his  '  best  man.'  I  do 
not  believe  there  ever  was  seen  a  handsomer  couple  who 
took  each  other  for  better  or  worse,  than  the  twain  who 
were  nuptially  bound  together  that  day.  Forrest  was  just 
thirty-one,  and  a  model  of  manly  beauty  ;  his  bride  barely 
twenty,  and  neither  poet  nor  painter  ever  dreamed  of  any- 
thing more  lovely  than  she  appeared  on  her  bridal  day. 
Everybody  gazed  on  them  with  admiration,  and  declared 
never  was  seen  a  more  beautiful  pair.  From  the  church 
we  adjourned  to  the  house  of  the  bride's  father,  in  Alfred 
Place,  where  the  usual  wedding  breakfast  was  served  with 
great  luxury.  The  United  States  minister,  in  a  felicitous 
speech,  toasted  the  happy  couple,  and  Forrest  responded 
in  the  best  taste.  Dr.  Croly,  even  better  known  in  the 
literary  world  than  the  church,  delivered  a  very  effective 
speech.  .  .  .  They  looked  supremely  happy  as  they  set 
off  on  their  hymeneal  trip,  and  everybody  heartily  wished 
them  God-speed." 

It  was  remembered  later  that  Forrest  had  met  Miss 
Sinclair  on  Friday,  had  proposed  on  Friday,  and  was 
married  on  Friday.  This  may  have  been  one  of  those 
stories  which  are  told  after  a  catastrophe  to  fit  the  cir- 


DOMESTIC  LIFE.  75 

cumstances,  and  perhaps  is  not  reliable.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Forrest  soon  after  embarked  for  America,  leaving  behind 
them  a  whole  heart  full  of  regrets,  and  encountering  on 
their  arrival  here  as  warm  a  welcome  on  the  part  of  the 
bridegroom's  old  admirers,  who  were  eager  to  become 
the  lady's  slaves  as  well.  Presented  to  his  friends,  she  at 
once  made  a  deep  and  lasting  impression.  Her  native 
delicacy  of  mind  and  refinement  of  manners  enchanted 
those  who  hoped  for  some  such  influence  to  be  exerted 
in  softening  the  rough  vigor  and  democratic  downright- 
ness  of  the  man.  Their  society  was  courted  by  all  those 
who  knew  the  actor ;  and  for  the  first  time  the  admirers 
of  Forrest's  genius  might  hope  to  see  him  at  the  fireside 
of  a  peaceful  home,  where  beauty  and  grace  presided. 
She  became  his  companion  in  his  travels,  making  the 
time  fly  pleasantly  when  the  cares  of  the  theatre  were 
over.  The  hitherto  lonely  moments  passed  by  him  in 
strange  hotels  were  now  intervals  of  happiness,  bright- 
ened by  her  loving  companionship.  She  was  his  equal 
mentally,  and  the  play  of  her  intellect  brought  out  all  the 
power  of  his  own  well-stored  mind. 

The  friendship  which  Mr.  Leggett  had  ever  enter- 
tained for  Forrest  was  now  extended  to  his  wife,  and 
until  his  death  that  learned  man  and  constant  friend 
retained  his  place  in  their  hearts.  During  their  many 
joumeyings  to  the  far  West  a  pleasant  correspondence 
was  kept  up  between  them  and  the  Leggetts,  and  in 
these  letters  the  young  wife  gives  many  evidences  of  the 
commanding  quality  of  her  intellect  and  her  advanced 
opinions  on  the  subject  of  the  married  state.  The 
family  of  Forrest  welcomed  his  bride  with  open  hearts, 


'j6  EDWIN  FORREST. 

and  to  Eleanora,  the  favorite  sister  of  Edwin,  the  young 
English  girl  became  a  loving  and  constant  friend.  When 
absent,  hers  were  the  letters  which  brought  to  the  sis- 
ters' fireside  the  news  of  their  wandering  fortunes,  and 
her  name  became  a  household  word  in  her  husband's 
family. 

At  times  the  actor's  duties  called  him  away  from  the 
side  of  his  wife,  and  then  her  letters  betrayed  the  anx- 
ious love  she  bore  for  the  absent  one  ;  his  replies  being 
equally  affectionate.  To  their  home  came  troops  of 
friends,  attracted  equally  by  the  fame  of  the  husband 
and  the  charms  of  the  wife.  Willis  was  there,  the  fash- 
ionable poet  of  the  day ;  and  Bryant,  the  editor  of  the 
Post,  the  poet  whose  lines  form  a  part  of  our  literature, 
with  his  grave,  thoughtful  face,  recalling  to  the  young 
wife  the  early  glories  of  her  gallant  husband,  —  a 
notable  figure  in  that  social  group,  who  was  to  survive 
all  the  vicissitudes  of  the  pair,  and  go  down  at  last, 
in  a  good  old  age,  to  his  rest.  The  Godwins,  hus- 
band and  wife,  close  friends  of  both,  afterwards  so 
sadly  interested  in  the  separation,  shared  an  honored 
place  in  that  family  group.  While  just  in  its  dawn, 
there  was  the  manly  affection  and  enduring  trust  of 
James  Oakes,  and  a  renewal  of  an  old  boy-love,  begun 
in  their  early  Thespian  days  in  Philadelphia,  with  James 
Rees,  who  still  lives,  and  who  as  "  Colley  Gibber  "  has 
since  given  us  an  estimate  of  his  dead  friend,  true  and 
invaluable.  Now  in  the  ripe  fulness  of  his  fortune,  the 
thoughtful  husband  looked  forward  to  his  future,  and 
Fonthill  was  chosen  as  a  home.  The  plans  were  formed 
by  Mrs.  Forrest  and  approved  by  him.   A  castle  of  mixed 


DOMESTIC  LIFE.  yj 

architecture  was  to  spring  up  on  the  banks  of  the  Hud- 
son, which  was  to  be  a  witness  to  posterity  of  the  love 
its  founder  bore  his  art ;  for  it  was  dedicated  to  American 
actors,  whose  home  at  its  builder's  death  it  was  intended 
to  be.  As  Nature  had  denied  Edwin  Forrest  offspring, 
he  desired  to  adopt  the  unfortunate  members  of  his  pro- 
fession. In  loving  emulation  the  youthful  pair  vied 
with  each  other  in  plans  for  the  advancement  of  their 
project,  and  as  the  pile  assumed  proportions  they  gazed 
with  pardonable  pride  upon  their  work.  A  rude  struct- 
ure was  erected  on  the  grounds,  and  here  they  often 
repaired  to  pass  happy  hours  in  directing  and  watching 
the  progress  of  the  building.  Here,  on  a  certain  Fourth 
of  July,  Edwin  Forrest  gathered  a  number  of  his  friends 
and  neighbors,  and,  surrounded  by  them  on  a  green 
knoll,  he  read  the  Declaration  of  Independence  as  he 
only  could  read  that  document. 

The  married  life  of  Forrest  promised  to  be  as  peaceful 
and  happy  as  his  professional  life  was  glorious.  Those 
who  before  did  not  believe  him  to  be  a  domestic  char- 
acter were  now  nearly  convinced  of  their  errors.  If  he 
were  framed  at  all  for  the  quiet  happiness  which  be- 
longs to  the  fireside,  surely  here  were  the  influences 
which  should  attract  him ;  a  young  and  lovely  wife,  a 
prosperous  fortune,  and  a  place  in  the  estimation  of  the 
world  beyond  the  common  inheritance  even  of  extraor- 
dinary men. 

His  friends  declared,  indeed,  that  they  saw  an  un- 
usual softness  and  gentleness  in  his  hitherto  brusque 
and  harsh  demeanor,  and  they  attributed  it  to  the  influ- 
ence of  her  who  reigned  in  the  home  circle.   A  playful 


78  EDWIN  FORREST. 

humor,  which  had  only  been  allowed  limited  licensv 
before,  now  seemed  to  be  natural  to  him,  and  was  a 
welcome  relief  after  the  heavy  duties  of  the  artist  were 
performed.  The  rehearsals  which  had  hitherto  been 
attended  often  by  outbreaks  of  violence  were  now  less 
turbulent,  and  even  carelessness  or  indifference  es- 
caped his  merited  rebuke.  To  this  period  belongs  the 
anecdote  of  the  poor  actor  who  was  so  slow  in  catching 
the  expression  of  certain  lines  which  Forrest  was  try- 
ing to  teach  him.  When  he  had  failed  after  many 
efforts  to  imbue  the  pale  speaker  with  some  of  his  own 
spirit,  he  excitedly  repeated  the  speech  himself,  and 
gave  it  with  all  the  Forrestian  emphasis.  Halting  at^ 
the  close,  "  There,"  he  said,  "  can  you  not  speak  it 
hke  that?"  The  actor  repHed  quietly,  "If  I  could, 
Mr.  Forrest,  I  would  not  be  playing  here  for  five  dol- 
lars a  week."  "  Is  that  all  your  salary?  "  inquired  For- 
rest. "  All,  sir."  "  Well,  then,  speak  it  your  own  way, 
sir."  The  poor  actor's  salary  was  raised,  however,  and 
when  he  went  to  the  box-office  on  next  pay-day  he  had 
cause  to  thank  the  forbearance  of  the  star.  This  is 
only  one  of  the  many  acts  of  thoughtful  kindness  which 
are  told  of  him  during  the  early  and  happy  days  of  his 
married  life. 

Honors  not  professional  were  now  heaped  upon  For- 
rest. He  was  offered  the  nomination  to  Congress  from 
one  of  the  New  York  City  districts,  which  he  declined. 
His  steady  democracy  and  honest  manliness  would 
have  made  a  mark  in  those  halls,  where  eloquence  like 
his  is  rarely  found.  He  delivered  the  oration  on  a 
Fourth  of  July  before  a  political  gathering  in   New 


DOMESTIC  LIFE.  79 

York,  in  which,  of  course,  many  of  his  professional 
admirers  were  numbered.  It  seemed  as  if  the  glory 
of  his  dramatic  career  was  to  be  reflected  in  a  social 
elevation  which  should  raise  the  public  regard  for  his 
calling,  and  add  new  laurels  to  his  already  laden  brow. 

The  American  Dramatic  Fund  was  organized  about 
this  time,  and  he  was  chosen  its  first  president.  It  had 
given  promise  of  being  an  active  promoter  of  the  best 
interests  of  the  American  actor,  and  he  lent  to  the 
scheme  his  hearty  support.  When  he  withdrew  his 
influence  later,  it  fell  into  a  torpid  condition,  because 
no  longer  American  in  its  aims ;  and  now  it  lingers  on, 
with  few  members,  the  seal  of  death  stamped  upon  it. 

Wherever  his  eye  fell  upon  anything  suggesting  the 
advancement  of  his  art,  he  instantly  gave  it  his  en- 
couragement. Learning  by  the  winning  example  of 
his  wife  the  habit  of  conciliation,  he  sought  to  enlarge 
the  circle  of  his  acquaintance  by  a  judicious  selection. 
His  choice  fell  upon  many  who  admired  him  for  his 
genius,  and  were  attracted  by  his  frank,  generous  man- 
ner; and  while  such  men  as  John  B.  Rice,  William 
Warren,  and  others  of  their  exalted  character,  stood  in 
the  ranks  of  Forrest's  friends,  he  felt  assured  that  their 
relations  were  so  independent  of  all  self-interest  as  to 
be  highly  complimentary  to  him. 

His  professional  engagements  were  numerous,  his 
profits  swelling  the  bulk  of  his  growing  fortune  at  a 
rate  exceeding  all  precedent.  His  property  in  Ken- 
tucky he  now  improved,  and  gave  to  one  of  its  avenues 
the  name  of  his  beloved  Oakes.  His  theatrical  posi- 
tion at  the  head  of  his  profession  was  unchallenged. 


8o  EDWIN  FORREST. 

Even  such  giants  as  Booth  and  Wallack  could  not 
deny  his  precedence,  when  a  whole  nation  endorsed 
his  claim  and  were  his  servants. 

The  preparations  at  Fonthill  went  on  meanwhile,  and 
that  massive  pile  moved  towards  its  completion.  Here 
it  was  his  wont  to  refresh  his  body  and  recreate  his 
mind,  surrounded  by  the  loving  friends  whom  his  own 
genius  and  the  graces  of  his  wife  attracted.  The  sister 
of  Mrs.  Forrest  and  her  father  and  mother  shared  his 
hospitable  home,  and  all  the  relaxations  which  such 
family  reunions  and  domestic  associations  bring  seemed 
created  to  brighten  the  path  of  the  hard-working  actor. 

New  parts  were  added  to  his  repertoire,  and  Richelieu 
and  Claude  (in  the  "  Lady  of  Lyons  ")  gave  new  evi- 
dences of  his  power.  His  plans  for  the  encouragement 
of  an  American  drama,  only  in  part  a  failure,  gave  him 
new  material  in  the  "  Broker  of  Bogota  "  and  in  "  Meta- 
mora,"  both  produced  with  decided  success. 

How  far  Edwin  Forrest  was  fitted  to  enjoy  the  calm 
delights  of  a  home  it  is  impossible  to  say.  His  friends 
could  not  realize  that  one  so  imperious,  so  born  to 
rule  and  be  obeyed,  could  consent  to  become  in  the 
slightest  sense  subordinate  to  the  will  of  another.  They 
had  not  known  how  the  strong  knee  had  bent  before 
the  mother  whom  he  adored ;  how,  at  the  parental  fire^ 
side,  the  son  was  moved  by  the  will  of  the  good  old 
woman  who  could  lead  him  by  love  alone. 

The  first  cloud  which  seemed  to  lower  over  the  do- 
mestic heaven  appeared  in  England  during  his  second 
visit,  when  it  was  said  he  became  angry  because  his 
wife  was  unwilling  to  drive  Macready  from  her  side 


.    DOMESTIC  LIFE.  8 1 

during  her  receptions.  Forrest  himself  refused  to 
speak  to  him,,  and  he  felt  it  galling  to  be  compelled 
to  see  any  one  dear  to  him  courteous  to  such  an  enemy. 
Macready  had  known  the  Sinclairs  intimately  for  years, 
and  on  this  occasion  had  mingled  with  her  other  friends 
to  welcome  Mrs.  Forrest  on  her  return  to  England. 

To  those  who  saw  only  the  outward  signs,  this  period 
may  be  regarded  as  that  in  which  Edwin  Forrest  stood 
at  the  very  pinnacle  of  worldly  renown.  Rich,  famous, 
happy,  he  possessed  a  threefold  gift  of  the  gods,  and 
he  might,  like  Polycrates,  almost  tremble  at  so  much 
favor ;  indeed,  the  hour  was  at  hand  when  the  hoUow- 
ness  of  this  show  was  to  be  revealed,  and  we  sorrow- 
fully turn  now  to  write  the  record  of  a  career  which 
touched  its  zenith  too  early,  and  was  destined  too 
quickly  to  decline.  In  an  evil  hour  for  himself,  in  an 
evil  hour  for  his  art  and  the  struggling  drama  in  Amer- 
ica, Edwin  Forrest  threw  open  the  doors  of  his  home 
to  the  scrutiny  of  the  world,  and  appealed  to  the  courts 
to  remove  the  skeleton  which  was  hidden  in  his  closet. 
With  the  proceedings  of  that  trial,  which  resulted  in 
divorce,  alimony,  and  separation,  this  memoir  has 
nothing  to  do.  All  those  who  are  curious  for  such  in- 
formation are  referred  to  two  large  volumes  of  a  thou- 
sand pages  each,  which  contain  the  records  of  a  legal 
battle  unprecedented  for  bitterness  and  for  the  wide 
interest  it  created  on  account  of  the  position  of  the 
contestants,  as  well  as  the  eminent  character  of  the 
counsel.  While  the  proud,  imperious  temper  of  For- 
rest may  not  have  fitted  him  for  the  married  state,  it 
seems  certain  that  he  was  compelled  to  endure  (as  in 
6 


82  EDWIN  FORREST. 

his  wife's  reception  of  Macready  in  London)  such  as- 
saults upon  his  pride  as  seemed  severe  trials  to  one  of 
his  nature,  and  both  man  and  wife  must  have  lived  to 
agree  with  Pericles,  that  "  She  is  best  who  is  least 
spoken  of  among  men,  whether  for  good  or  evil." 

Those  who  had  taken  the  part  of  Macready  in  the 
quarrel  and  Entente  in  Astor  Place  now  managed  to 
divide  public  opinion  in  the  interest  of  the  wife,  and  a 
strong  opposition  was  established  among  those  who  had 
espoused  the  Macready  cause  on  that  occasion.  The 
friends  of  good  order,  the  friends  of  social  decorum, 
the  higher  classes  generally,  were  on  the  side  of  the 
wife  and  against  the  husband ;  and  when  the  result  was 
reached  and  a  verdict  given  in  the  lady's  favor,  none 
rejoiced  more  than  those  who  had  been  defeated  in 
their  efforts  to  give  Macready  the  hearing  in  America 
which  was  denied  to  Forrest  in  England.  With  the 
consequences  of  those  events  the  following  chapter 
will  deal ;  we  only  state  here  that  the  alimony  was  fixed 
at  three  thousand  dollars  a  year,  and  the  divorce  granted 
to  the  lady  alone,  the  husband  being  debarred  from 
marrying  again. 


AFTER   THE   TRIAL.  83 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

AFTER  THE  TRIAL.  —  MRS.  FORREST'S  PROFESSIONAL  LIFE. 

EDWIN  FORREST,  leaving  the  court-room  a  de- 
feated man,  was  instantly  raised  to  a  popularity 
with  the  masses  beyond  anything  even  he  had  before 
experienced.  The  public  reversed  the  judgment  of  the 
court,  and  while  "good  society"  applauded  the  clear- 
ance of  the  lady,  the  hard-handed  democracy  hailed 
their  old  favorite  as  "  martyr,"  crowTiing  him  with  a 
wreath  of  sorrow,  only  that  they  might  worship  him  the 
more. 

He  began  an  engagement  soon  after  at  the  Broad- 
way Theatre,  opening  as  Damon.  The  house  was 
crowded  to  suffocation.  Upon  his  entrance  he  was 
greeted  with  deafening  cheers,  which  were  repeated 
again  and  again  while  the  actor  bowed  his  thanks.  A 
large  flag  was  unfurled  in  the  pit  by  his  admirer.  Cap- 
tain Rynders,  with  the  words,  "This  is  the  people's 
verdict ; "  and  at  the  close  of  the  play,  when  called 
before  the  curtain,  he  was  obliged  to  respond  to  the 
demands  for  a  "  speech."  He  spoke  as  follows,  quoting 
from  the  ample  and  complete  life  of  Forrest  by  the  Rev. 
William  R.  Alger :  — 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  —  After  the  unparalleled 
verdict  which  you  have  rendered  me  here  to-night,  you 


84  EDWIN  FORREST. 

will  not  doubt  that  I  consider  this  the  proudest  moment 
of  my  life.  And  yet  it  is  a  moment  not  unmingled  with 
sadness.  Instinctively  I  ask  myself  the  question,  Why 
is  this  vast  assemblage  here  to-night,  composed  as  it  is  of 
the  intelligent,  the  high-minded,  the  right-minded,  and  last, 
though  not  least,  the  beautiful  of  the  Empire  City?  Is  it 
because  a  favorite  actor  appears  in  a  favorite  character  ? 
No,  the  actor  and  the  performances  are  as  familiar  to  you 
as  household  words.  Why,  then,  this  unusual  ferment? 
It  is  because  you  have  come  to  express  your  irrepressible 
sympathy  for  one  whom  you  know  to  be  a  deeply-injured 
man.  Nay,  more,  you  are  here  with  a  higher  and  a  holier 
purpose, — to  vindicate  the  principle  of  even-handed  jus- 
tice. I  do  not  propose  to  examine  the  proceedings  of  the 
late  unhappy  trial ;  those  proceedings  are  now  before  you, 
and  before  the  world,  and  you  can  judge  as  rightly  of 
them  as  I  can.  I  have  no  desire  to  instruct  you  in  the 
verdict  you  shall  render.  The  issue  of  that  trial  will  yet 
be  before  the  court,  and  I  shall  patiently  await  the  judg- 
ment of  that  court,  be  it  what  it  may.  In  the  meanwhile, 
I  submit  my  cause  to  you,  —  my  cause,  did  I  say  ?  —  no, 
not  my  cause  alone,  but  yours,  the  cause  of  every  man  in 
the  community,  the  cause  of  every  human  being,  the 
cause  of  every  honest  wife,  the  cause  of  every  virtuous 
woman,  the  cause  of  every  one  who  cherishes  a  home  and 
the  pure  spirit  which  should  abide  there.  Ladies  and 
gentlemen,  I  submit  my  cause  to  a  tribunal  uncorrupt 
and  incorruptible  ;  I  submit  it  to  the  sober  second  thought 
of  the  people.  A  little  while  since,  and  I  thought  my 
pathway  of  life  was  filled  with  thorns  ;  you  have  this  night 
filled  it  with  roses  (looking  at  the  bouquets  at  his  feet). 
Their  perfume  is  gratifying  to  the  senses,  and  I  am 
grateful  for  your  beautiful  and  fragrant  offering." 

The  applause  which  greeted  this  speech  was  pro- 
longed until  the  actor  had  bowed  himself  beyond  the 


AFTER   THE   TRIAL.  85 

line  of  the  curtain.  The  temperance  of  his  words 
,  made  him  many  new  friends  who  expected  nothing  but 
violence.  Had  he  practised  the  same  restraint  before 
and  during  the  trial,  it  might  have  altered  the  issue. 
An  illustration  of  that  roughness  which  characterized 
him  is  here  given.  He  had  been  intimate  with  the 
celebrated  lawyer  Charles  O'Conor.  They  were  neigh- 
bors, and  were  in  the  habit  of  conversing  as  they  met 
in  the  railway  cars  on  their  way  to  or  from  Yonkers 
and  New  York.  One  day  Forrest  learned  that  O'Conor 
had  taken  the  brief  of  Mrs.  Forrest,  and,  without  wait- 
ing to  question  him,  on  the  next  occasion  of  their 
meeting  on  the  train  he  began  an  abusive  attack,  to 
which  the  lawyer  listened  in  contemptuous  silence, 
until  as  the  train  neared  the  station,  and  they  were 
about  to  step  down,  O'Conor  turned  and  said,  "  I  had 
not  decided  to  accept  the  brief  in  this  case,  but  your 
brutal  conduct  has  determined  me,  and  I  charge  you  to 
look  well  to  your  case,  for  I  will  show  you  no  mercy ;  " 
a  threat  which  the  able  counsel  religiously  kept. 

For  sixty-nine  nights  the  people  thronged  the  Broad- 
way Theatre.  The  engagement  was  unparalleled  in  the 
history  of  the  American  drama  for  length  and  profit. 
All  the  allusions  which  could  be  applied  to  the  trial 
were  given  with  malicious  point  by  the  actor,  and  hailed 
with  applause  by  the  audience.  At  the  end  of  the 
first  act  of  "  Richelieu,"  when  the  old  cardinal  said,  — 

"  France,  I  love  thee  ;  all  earth  shall  never  tear  thee  4 
From  my  heart.     My  mistress  —  France,  my  wedded  wife, 
Sweet  France,  who  shall  proclaim  divorce  for  thee  and  me  ?  " 

the  audience  sprang  to  their  feet,  and  in  a  shower  of 
*'  bravos  "  the  act-drop  descended.   In  his  final  speech 


86  EDWIN  FORREST. 

at  the  close  of  this  engagement  he  alluded  to  its  flat- 
tering character,  and  ended  by  saying  that  "  such  a 
demonstration  vindicates  me  more  than  a  thousand 
verdicts,  for  it  springs  from  those  who  make  and  un- 
make judges." 

"  But,"  using  again  the  words  of  Alger,  "  despite  the 
flattering  applause  of  the  multitude,  added  to  the  sup- 
port of  his  own  conscience,  and  notwithstanding  his 
abounding  health  and  strength  and  enhancing  riches, 
from  the  date  of  his  separation  and  desire  for  divorce, 
the  dominant  tone  of  the  life  of  Forrest  was  changed. 
His  demeanor  had  a  more  forbidding  aspect,  his  dis- 
position a  sterner  tinge,  his  faith  in  human  nature  less 
genial  expansion,  his  joy  in  existence  less  spontaneous 
exuberance.  The  circle  of  his  friends  was  greatly  con- 
tracted, a  certain  irritable  soreness  was  fixed  in  his 
sensibility,  he  shrank  more  strongly  than  ever  from 
miscellaneous  society,  and  seemed  to  be  more  asserting 
or  protecting  himself  cloaked  in  an  appearance  of 
reserve  and  gloom.  The  world  of  life  never  again  wore 
to  him  the  smiling  aspect  it  had  so  often  worn  before." 

On  his  again  assuming  the  labors  of  his  profession, 
that  which  above  is  so  clearly  told  became  apparent  to 
his  friends.  The  applause  which  filled  his  ears,  the 
wealth  which  flowed  in  upon  him,  could  not  improve 
that  temper  which  had  never  been  amiable,  and  all  the 
hard  stories  of  his  life  belong  to  this  period.  He  meas- 
ured the  friendship  of  his  old  companions  by  their 
eagerness  or  coldness  in  meeting  his  wishes  in  the  col- 
lection of  evidence  for  his  case  in  the  trial,  and  as  he 
was  not  delicate  in  the  tone  of  his  requests,  so  was  he 


AFTER   THE    TRIAL.  8/ 

harsh  in  his  treatment  of  those  who  did  not  fulfil  them. 
To  John  Rice,  of  Chicago,  who  had  been  closely  asso- 
ciated with  him  for  years,  he  wrote  for  such  a  service  as 
no  gentleman  would  care  to  perform,  even  for  his  dear- 
est friend,  and  especially  where  a  lady  was  concerned. 
He  never  spoke  to  Rice  after  his  refusal,  and  thus  lost 
the  counsel  and  friendship  of  a  man  whose  probity, 
honor,  and  sterling  manhood  were  so  well  known  in 
Chicago,  which  made  him  its  chief  officer  on  two  occa- 
sions, and  at  last  placed  him  in  Congress  as  its  repre- 
sentative. With  another  actor,  John  Gilbert,  he  refused 
to  play  when  engaging  for  Boston  after  the  trial,  and  to 
the  day  of  his  death  he  never  mentioned  his  name 
without  abuse. 

To  those  who  stood  by  him  he  was,  on  the  other 
hand,  grateful  and  affectionate  in  a  marked  degree. 
James  Oakes  knew  no  bounds  in  the  love  he  bore  his 
friend,  and  gave  him,  at  every  turn  in  the  trial,  proofs 
of  his  loyalty.  James  Lawson  was  equally  faithful,  and 
both  received  many  proofs  of  his  good-will ;  while  for 
the  Godwins,  the  Bryants,  and  others  who  had  either 
espoused  the  lady's  cause  openly  or  were  coldly  neu- 
tral, he  entertained  the  most  freezing  scorn. 

Despising  the  spot  which  had  been  consecrated  to 
the  great  purpose  of  his  life,  as  a  remembrance  of  her 
who  had  shared  in  its  inception,  he  sold  Fonthill  to  the 
Sisters  of  Notre  Dame  for  one  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars, and  when  the  second  instalment  fell  due  he  remit- 
ted five  thousand  dollars  of  the  purchase-money.  He 
now  bought  a  house  and  grounds  on  Broad  Street,  Phil- 
adelphia, and,  placing  his  sisters  there,  he  began  the 


88  EDWIN  FORREST. 

foundation  of  another  home,  where  all  the  early  associ- 
ations of  his  youth  were  revived  and  all  trace  of  his 
sorrow  and  bitter  trial  banished.  Now  and  then  some 
touching  act  of  charity  would  seem  to  contradict  the 
hardness  of  his  nature.  A  poor  actor,  late  for  rehearsal, 
was  reproached  by  Forrest  in  a  stern  manner.  The 
man  replied  that  he  was  very  sorry ;  he  had  met  with 
a  severe  affliction ;  his  boy  had  died  in  the  night. 
Placing  fifty  dollars  in  his  hand,  Forrest  bade  the  man 
go  home,  saying  that  he  would  see  that  his  absence 
should  not  work  him  injury. 

He  sought  out  his  early  manager,  Jones,  whom  he 
found  poor  and  suffering  in  his  old  age,  took  him  to  his 
stately  home,  and  relieved  his  wants ;  furnishing  him 
with  a  place  where  he  would  be  out  of  the  reach  of 
future  sorrow,  and  watching  over  him  until  his  death. 
An  incident  of  his  brusqueness  belongs  here.  A  lady 
who  was  dressed  for  a  male  part  was  in  his  way  as  he 
was  about  to  go  upon  the  stage  ;  he  ordered  her  to  stand 
aside  ;  she  did  not  quickly  obey,  when  he  took  the  sup- 
posed man  by  the  shoulder  rudely  and  pushed  him  away.. 
The  lady  burst  into  tears,  and  Forrest  then  apologized, 
saying,  "  I  did  not  know  you  were  a  lady."  Her  wo- 
man's wit  did  not  fail  her  as  she  replied,  "  Sir,  you 
might  have  mistaken  me  for  a  gentleman." 

To  his  other  strong  passions  was  now  added  that  of 
avarice,  the  desire  to  accumulate  wealth,  when  those  to 
whose  happiness  that  wealth  contributed  were  passing 
beyond  the  need  of  his  help.  He  had  learned  the 
lesson  of  economy  in  the  hard  school  of  adversity,  he 
had  known  want,  and  he  was  always  strictly  honorable 


AFTER    THE    TRIAL.  89 

in  his  money  dealings.  He  said,  "  In  early  life  I  learned 
to  depend  solely  upon  myself  for  sustenance.  The  de- 
sire I  had  for  wealth  was  first  fostered  only  that  I  might 
be  able  to  contribute  to  the  comforts  of  those  whose 
veins  bore  blood  like  mine,  and  to  smooth  the  path- 
way to  the  grave  of  the  gentlest,  the  truest,  the  most 
unselfish  friend  I  ever  knew,  my  mother  !  to  relieve  the 
wants  of  friends  less  fortunate  than  myself,  and  to  succor 
the  distressed  wherever  found." 

He  continued  his  engagements  for  several  years,  meet- 
ing with  amazing  success  in  all  the  large  cities  where 
the  fame  of  the  trial  and  the  genius  of  the  man  made 
the  people  eager  to  see  him.  On  the  20th  of  Septem- 
ber, 1852,  he  reappeared  at  the  Broadway  Theatre,  New 
York,  and  repeated  the  triumph  of  his  former  engage- 
ment. He  returned  again  in  February,  1853,  and  for 
the  first  and  last  time  in  his  life  he  took  part  in  a  great 
revival  of  one  of  Shakspere's  plays.  "  Macbeth  "  was 
produced  in  grand  style,  with  new  scenery  and  appoint- 
ments. The  tragedy  was,  played  on  twenty  consecutive 
nights,  then  by  far  the  longest  run  of  any  Shaksperean 
play  in  America.  The  cast  was  phenomenal,  Conway, 
Duff,  Davenport,  Pope,  Davidge,  Barry,  and  Madame 
Ponisi  jjlaying  the  leading  parts  under  Mr.  Forrest. 

In  1855  a  benefit  was  given  to  the  veteran  actor  and 
manager,  James  W.  Wallack,  Sen.,  a  warm  friend  of  For- 
rest's. On  this  occasion  he  deviated  from  his  fixed  nile 
,  of  life,  and  gave  his  aid  and  talents  to  the  beneficiary, 
appearing  as  Damon  to  the  Pythias  of  Mr.  E.  L.  Dav- 
enjKJrt.  For  some  professional  reason  now  unknown, 
Forrest  was  not  on  speaking  terms  with  Davenport,  and 


90  EDWIN  FORREST. 

when  the  rehearsal  took  place  avoided  giving  him  direct 
instruction,  by  saying,  "Pythias  stands  there," or  "Pyth- 
ias goes  here,"  without  looking  towards  the  actor.  This 
breach  was  never  healed,  and  many  years  later,  when 
Davenport  sent  word  to  Forrest  that  he  would  like  to 
play  lago  to  his  Othello,  the  reply  came  back,  "  That  he 
would  not  let  him  play  Montana  in  his  cast ! "  These 
were  in  his  violent  moments,  and  illustrate  the  perverse 
and  soured  elements  of  his  nature. 

After  five  years  of  constant  labor,  he  resolved  upon 
taking  the  rest  which  he  had  often  promised  himself, 
and  in  the  retirement  of  his  Philadelphia  home  he 
found  recreation ;  the  presence  of  Forney,  Dougherty, 
and  McMichael  recompensing  him  for  the  applause 
of  the  theatre,  which  he  had  for  a  period  abandoned. 
These  loving  friends  sought  to  draw  him  into  society 
again,  and  drown  the  bitter  past  in  the  renewal  of  better 
and  truer  associations ;  but  this  he  declined,  and  with 
his  family,  his  books,  and  his  few  friends,  he  kept  the 
chosen  tenor  of  his  way  unbroken. 

During  this  retirement  the  first  alarming  symptoms  of 
the  malady — which  afterwards  was  so  severe — appeared 
in  an  attack  of  inflammatory  gout  or  rheumatism,  which 
laid  him  up  for  weeks  ;  but  his  strong  constitution  and 
regular  habits  of  living  overcame  the  disease  for  a  time, 
and  the  attack  was  forgotten.  The  seeds  of  gout  were 
hereditary,  however,  and  were  destined  again  and  again 
to  break  out  and  shatter  his  giant  frame. 

In  1855  a  series  of  articles  appeared  in  one  of  the 
New  York  papers  written  in  the  most  brilliant  manner, 
but  in  every  way  offensive  to  Forrest.     He  was  here 


MXS.  FORRESrS  PROFESSIONAL  LIFE.       9 1 

denounced  as  a  "butcher,"  a  "ranter,"  a  "stage 
ruffian,"  and  assailed  by  other  epithets  of  like  coarse 
nature.  They  reflected  the  sentiments  of  the  clique 
which  had  been  favorable  to  Macready  at  the  time  of 
the  riot,  and  showed  that  the  aflair  was  not  forgotten. 
Indeed,  from  this  date  we  notice  that  fashionable  so- 
ciety began  to  discover  that  Forrest  was  not  what  he 
had  been  in  his  earlier  days.  Davenport  and  Murdoch 
were  said  to  be  his  superiors  in  Hamlet,  Wallack,  in 
Rolla,  while  Gustavus  Brooke,  a  young  English  actor 
of  extraordinary  genius,  far  eclipsed  him  in  his  great 
part,  Othello.  Meanwhile,  resisting  the  verdict  ren- 
dered in  the  famous  trial,  and  refusing  to  pay  the  ali- 
mony awarded,  he  carried  his  case  to  the  higher  court, 
where  he  hoped  to  obtain  a  reversal  of  the  judgment ; 
and  in  this  way  he  kept  his  unfortunate  family  troubles 
still  in  the  public  mind. 

Mrs.  Forrest,  resuming  her  maiden  name,  had,  soon 
after  the  trial,  made  her  appearance  as  an  actress,  select- 
ing for  her  opening,  with  questionable  taste,  the  comedy 
of  the  "  School  for  Scandah"  A  fashionable  audience 
greeted  her,  and  she  played  other  parts  during  her  brief 
engagement  at  Brougham's  Lyceum,  but  with  diminish- 
ing success.  She  was  supported  by  George  Vandenhoff, 
under  whom  she  had  studied  for  the  stage,  by  William  H. 
Chippendale,  Henry  Lynne,  William  J.  Florence,  Charles 
Kemble  Mason,  Charles  Walcot,  John  Brougham,  Mrs. 
Skerrett,  Mrs.  Maeder,  and  others ;  and  presented  "  The 
Lady  of  Lyons,"  "  Much  Ado  About  Nothing,"  "  Love's 
Sacrifice,"  and  "The  Patrician's  Daughter."  Closing 
her  season  abruptly,  she  soon  after  went  to  California, 


92  EDWIN  FORREST. 

where  she  regularly  entered  upon  the  career  of  an 
actress,  assumed  the  management  of  one  of  the  theatres, 
was  fairly  prosperous,  but  returned  at  last  to  the  East 
and  to  retirement. 

Tracing  her  private  career  in  the  hope  of  finding  new 
material  for  the  renewal  of  his  claim,  resisting  payment 
of  the  alimony  which  caused  new  involvements,  For- 
rest kept  himself  upon  the  rack,  even  while  seeking 
rest  and  repose  in  his  domestic  circle. 

Mr.  Alger  has  given  us  a  beautiful  picture  of  one  of 
the  happy  scenes  of  his  life  at  this  time.  "  Early  one 
summer  morning,  while  visiting  at  Forrest's  home, 
Oakes  was  seen  wrapped  in  a  silk  morning- gown  of 
George  Frederick  Cooke,  with  a  wig  of  John  Phillip 
Kemble  on  his  head,  and  a  sword  of  Edmund  Kean 
by  his  side,  tackled  between  the  thills  of  a  heavy  stone 
roller,  rolling  the  garden-walks  to  earn  his  breakfast. 
Forrest  was  behind  him  urging  him  fonvard.  Henri- 
etta and  Eleanor  Forrest  gazed  out  of  a  window  at  the 
scene  in  amazement,  until  its  amusing  significance  broke 
upon  them,  when  their  frolicsome  peals  of  laughteir 
caused  the  busy  pair  of  laborers  below  to  pause  in  their 
task  and  look  up." 

A  number  of  Forrest's  friends  co-operated  to  obtain 
a  marble  statue  of  him  as  Coriolanus,  and  he  readily 
lent  his  aid,  giving  sittings  and  such  advice  as  the 
sculptor  solicited.  The  celebrated  Thomas  Ball  was 
chosen  as  the  artist  best  fitted  to  perform  the  work. 
When  completed,  it  was  intended  by  Forrest  to  adorn 
the  future  retreat  for  actors,  the  idea  of  which  he  had 
never  abandoned,  although  Fonthill  had  passed  out  of 


MRS.  FORREST'S  PROFESSIONAL  LIFE.      93 

his  hands.  This  statue  is  now  one  of  the  chief  points 
of  interest  in  the  Actors'  Home  at  Springbrook. 

Much  of  Forrest's  time,  during  the  interval  of  rest 
from  theatrical  labor,  was  given  to  the  better  investment 
of  his  fortune,  which  had  now  grown  to  such  a  bulk  as 
to  need  the  most  thoughtful  attention.  While  in  his 
home  enjoyments  he  kept  up  the  studies  which  related 
to  his  art.  Here,  in  the  comfortable  library,  surrounded 
by  his  books  and  his  few  friends,  he  discoursed  upon 
the  stage  and  its  past  glories,  with  the  history  and  tra- 
ditions of  which  his  mind  was  stored,  or  read  from 
some  poet  lines  which  he  loved,  and  to  which  his  match- 
less voice  lent  new  meaning. 

He  was  always  courteously  willing  to  give  private  ex- 
hibitions of  his  powers  in  the  recitation  of  selections, 
both  humorous  and  pathetic.  At  a  dinner-table,  where 
his  associates  were  to  his  liking,  he  was  a  decided  ad- 
dition to  the  merriment  of  the  party,  while  as  a  story- 
teller he  had  surpassing  power.  He  visited  the  theatres 
regularly,  his  entrance  being  the  signal  for  a  general 
murmur  of  approbation,  and  sometimes  of  audible  ap- 
plause. 

The  promise  he  had  made  to  his  friend  Oakes,  to 
abstain  from  professional  duty  for  a  period  of  years,  had 
been  well  kept,  but  it  was  soon  to  be  revoked  and  an- 
other era  in  his  career  to  commence. 


94  EDWIN  FORREST. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


MATURITY. 


IN  answer  to  numerous  inquiries,  Mr.  James  Rees, 
the  confidential  fi-iend  of  Mr.  Forrest,  authoritatively 
published  the  following  during  the  year  i860  :  — 

"  TO  CORRESPONDENTS.      EDWIN  FORREST. 

*'  The  question  is  so  frequently  asked  in  relation  to  the 
probability  of  this  gentleman's  appearing  again  on  the 
stage,  that  we  feel  it  a  duty  to  answer  such  questions  to 
the  best  of  our  knowledge,  as  we  know  it  is  not  idle  curi- 
osity which  prompts  them. 

"  These  inquiries,  written  in  many  instances  by  persons 
evidently  anxious  to  witness  his  powerful  impersonations 
of  character,  are  highly  flattering  to  this  inimitable  artist. 
They  all  develop  to  us  the  fact  that  thousands  are  so 
sickened,  and  in  some  instances  disgusted,  at  the  present 
state  of  the  drama,  and  the  paucity  of  genuine  talent  in 
our  midst,  that  a  change  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole  body 
politic  is  most  anxiously  desired. 

"  To  end  the  anxiety  manifested,  we  can  state  with  con- 
fidence that  Mr.  Forrest  will  appear  on  the  stage  again, 
and  this  event,  so  long  looked  for,  will  most  probably  take 
place  in  the  fall  or  winter  season  of  the  present  year. 
June,  i860." 


AfA  TURITY.  95 

Accordingly,  on  the  1 7th  of  September,  after  an  ab- 
s'fence  of  nearly  four  years,  Edwin  Forrest  again  appeared 
on  the  stage.  He  was  engaged  by  James  Nixon,  and 
began  his  contract  of  one  hundred  nights  at  Niblo's 
Garden,  New  York,  in  the  character  of  Hamlet. 

During  the  retirement  of  Forrest,  his  fame  had  con- 
tinued to  increase.  A  new  generation  of  play-goers, 
who  had  only  read  of  the  giant,  were  now  eager  to  see 
him  of  whom  they  had  heard  so  much.  The  panic  of 
1 85  7,  which  had  paralyzed  all  industries,  and  had  closed 
the  theatres,  or  at  all  events  had  ruined  the  managers 
and  beggared  the  actors,  was  now  passing  away,  and  a 
better  feeling  was  exhibited.  During  these  years,  also, 
new  candidates  for  public  favor  had  arisen  in  the  tragic 
and  comic  field.  The  city  of  New  York  was  passing  rap- 
idly into  the  great  metropolis  which  it  has  since  become. 
Great  political  questions  were  agitating  the  country,  and 
parties  were  dividing  the  nation  into  sectional  lines 
which  threatened  ominous  divisions. 

The  theatres  of  New  York,  during  the  years  of 
1857-60,  were  not  without  attractions  of  a  sterling 
character,  notwithstanding  the  lugubrious  picture  drawn 
in  Forrest's  card.  The  old  drama  had  not  yet  surren- 
dered to  the  sensational  enemy.  "  Hamlet "  was  being 
acted  at  four  theatres  at  one  time,  and  by  leading  favor- 
ites in  each  :  by  E.  L.  Davenport  at  the  Winter  Garden, 
by  the  grand  old  veteran,  James  Wallack,  Sen.,  at  his 
own  theatre,  and  by  two  other  gentlemen  in  East  side 
houses.  During  this  period  a  revival  of  "  The  Winter's 
Tale  "  was  inaugurated  at  Burton's  Theatre,  which  sur- 
passed all  previous  efforts  in  the  Shaksperean  field. 


96  EDWIN  FORREST. 

Leontes  being  j)layed  by  the  younger  J.  W.  Wallack,  a 
man  whose  genius  was  the  delight  of  our  stage,  whose 
versatility  was  the  marvel  of  his  fellows,  and  whose 
genial  nature  and  unselfish  manhood  were  the  admiration 
of  his  friends. 

Burton  played  Autolycus  as  he  only  could  play  it, 
while  such  actors  as  Fisher  and  Setchell,  such  actresses 
as  Mrs.  Amelia  Parker  and  Sara  Stevens,  filled  the  other 
rdles.  The  writer  had  the  honor  of  playing  Florizel  in 
this  cast.  Charles  Mathews  had  returned  to  America  for 
the  third  time,  and  shared  in  the  revival  of  "  Twelfth 
Night "  with  Burton,  Brougham,  and  others  of  the  Metro- 
politan Theatre  Company.  It  was  during  this  interval 
also  that  Charlotte  Cushman  reappeared  on  the  stage 
after  her  many  years  of  retirement,  and  under  Burton's 
management  gave  a  series  of  her  grand  performances 
at  the  same  house,  which  filled  the  theatre  and  con- 
firmed her  fame. 

During  this  time  also  the  coming  glories  of  the  Wal- 
lack regime  were  foretold  in  the  foresight  and  genius  of 
the  master.  The  elder  of  that  name  took  a  falling  prop- 
erty, gave  it  all  the  vitality  of  his  own  experienced 
management,  and  laid  the  foundation  for  the  great  fame 
which  has  been  so  well  perpetuated  in  the  ability  of  his 
gifted  son,  Lester  Wallack. 

Here  were  shown  the  first-fruits  of  that  versatile 
genius  which  has  for  nearly  twenty-five  years  sup- 
plied the  theatres  of  two  nations.  Here  began  the 
modern  domestic  drama  from  which  the  mechanical, 
the  sensational,  and  the  realistic  derived  their  inspira- 
tion, but  which  they  have  so  poorly  and  feebly  imitated. 


MATURITY.  97 

The  first  of  the  grand  series  of  Boucicault's  plays  was 
the  three-act  melodrama  of  "  Jessie  Brown."  The  pro- 
duction of  that  piece  at  Wallack's  marks  the  line  which 
separates  the  theatre  of  the  past  from  that  of  the  present 
in  America.  Matilda  Heron  had  but  a  few  months  be- 
fore appeared  in  a  play  full  of  turgid  declamation  and 
pointless  situations,  —  a  supplement  to  her  success  in 
"  Camille."  It  had  failed,  but  the  cause  was  found  in 
the  desire  of  the  people  for  effects  of  a  moi^e  natural 
character.  In  "  Jessie  Brown,"  the  situation,  the  dia- 
logue, and  the  superb  acting  at  once  changed  the 
indifferent  spectator  into  an  eager  and  enthusiastic 
listener. 

The  same  change  which  had  taken  place  in  the  field 
of  comedy  and  domestic  drama  was  apparent  in  the 
tragic  drama  as  well.  From  the  far  West  a  youth  had 
come  who  bore  a  magical  name,  associated  with  the 
past  glories  of  a  great  father,  of  whom  he  was  said  to  be 
in  every  way  worthy.  Edwin  Booth  was  hailed  as  the 
"  Hope  of  the  Living  Drama "  by  the  most  careful  of 
critics,  and  accepted  by  the  public  as  the  exemplar  of 
the  new  idea  in  tragedy.  His  youth,  beauty,  and  su- 
perior fitness  marked  him  as  a  leader  in  the  school  of 
which  he  was  to  be  the  restorer,  —  the  impulsive,  pas- 
sionate school  of  tragedy  ;  stilted  declamation  and  slow 
solemnity  giving  way  before  the  "  fiery  onset "  of  this 
rapidly  moving,  nervous  embodiment  of  all  the  passions. 
His  appearance  in  New  York  in  1857  was  the  event 
which  rallied  to  his  side  many  of  those  who  had  been 
adherents  of  his  great  father,  while  the  new  auditors  — 
the  younger  generation  seeking  for  their  ideal  —  found 
7 


98  EDWIN  FORREST. 

it  in  this  dark-haired,  brown-eyed  youth,  who  had  seized 
the  sceptre  of  the  stage  with  an  audacious  hand,  and 
was  manifesting  power  to  retain  it.  Edwin  Booth  in 
two  years  had  attracted  a  following  large  in  numbers, 
and  of  that  class  called  "select"  in  quality,  although 
there  were  those  who  scorned  the  claim  that  he  was  in 
any  way  the  rival  of  the  master  who  was  now  in  retire- 
ment. 

The  hold  which  the  new  tragedian  had  taken  upon 
the  public,  the  interest  which  his  youth  and  talent  ex- 
cited, the  personal  resemblance  he  bore  in  certain  re- 
spects to  the  elder  Booth,  many  of  whose  parts  he 
played,  —  all  these  but  added  zest  to  the  desire  which 
had  lately  found  open  expression  that  the  veteran  should 
reappear.  And  when  Forrest  did  step  upon  the  stage 
again,  it  was  to  find  that  these  changes  had  taken  place 
in  his  retirement.  He  who  had  surpassed  other  gener- 
ations of  great  actors,  and  outlived  them  all ;  he  who 
had  borne  in  triumph  the  high  name  of  America's  great- 
est tragedian  for  years  unchallenged,  —  now  confronted 
a  changing  taste,  a  new  era,  and  a  new  rival.  With  the 
elder  lay  all  the  traditions  of  the  old  drama,  with  the 
younger  all  the  elements  which  were  fusing  into  the 
new.  The  one  was  supported  and  maintained  by  the 
generations  which  had  grown  up  with  the  veteran, 
had  seen  the  various  stages  of  his  career  passed  trium- 
phantly, and  who  sought  no  improvement ;  the  other 
represented  the  hopeful  expression  of  the  new  genera- 
tion which  forms  its  own  ideas  by  the  impressions  of  its 
times,  and  is  not  slavishly  bound  to  the  past. 

As  yet  all  the  glory  lay  with  the  veteran.     The  deep 


MATURITY.  99 

interest  which  he  had  excited  during  the  trial,  the 
gossip  of  the  idle,  the  admiration  of  the  crowd,  even 
the  long  retirement,  only  increased  the  curious  interest 
which  centred  round  his  historic  name ;  all  the  invec- 
tives which  had  been  hurled  against  him  by  enemies, 
all  the  stories  of  his  gloomy  and  despotic  nature,  all  the 
caricatures  which  malice  had  created,  all  the  humorous 
anecdotes  of  which  he  was  the  hero  or  the  victim,  only 
excited  the  curiosity  of  the  public. 

Upon  his  opening  night,  at  Niblo's  Garden,  the  seats 
were  sold  at  auction,  and  the  throngs  which  were  turned 
away  nightly  from  the  doors  exceeded  those  which  found 
admittance.  His  engagement  ran  for  one  hundred 
nights,  to  be  divided  between  many  of  the  largest  cities. 
He  acted  but  three  nights  of  each  week,  and  his  ser- 
vices were  rewarded  with  one  half  of  the  gross  receipts. 

In  New  York  he  played  "  Hamlet,"  "  King  Lear," 
" OtheUo,"  "  Macbeth,"  "Richard  HI.,"  "The  Glad- 
iator," "  Damon  and  Pythias,"  "  Richelieu,"  "  Jack 
Cade,"  "  Virginius,"  and  "  Metamora,"  supported  by 
Frederick  B.  Conway  (as  the  Ghost,  lago,  and  Mac- 
duff^, Charles  Fisher  (as  Polonius,  first  time,  and  Cas- 
sia), Daniel  H,  Harkins  (as  Horatio),  John  Chester 
(as  Roderigo),  Madame  Ponisi  (as  Queen  Gertrude^ 
Emilia,  and  Lady  Macbeth),  and  Mrs.  F.  B.  Conway 
(as  Ophelia,  Desdemona,  etc.). 

His  success  in  Philadelphia  rivalled  that  of  New 
York,  and  he  closed  his  engagement  with  Mr.  Nixon 
with  a  grand  margin  of  profits  to  both.  His  perform- 
ances in  that  city  were  confined  to  his  Shaksperean 
parts  by  request,  and  the  glad  manager  issued  a  con- 


lOO  EDWIN  FORREST. 

senting  card  to  the  public  which  demanded  this  con- 
cession. Even  Spartacus  and  Tell,  the  Broker  and 
Cade,  were  set  aside  for  the  immortal  heroes  of  Shak- 
spere. 

The  breaking  out  of  the  Rebellion  gave  a  new  im- 
petus to  the  business  of  the  theatres.  The  cities  were 
filled  by  those  who  had  heretofore  lived  a  life  of  retire- 
ment in  the  provinces ;  the  activity  of  reviving  trade, 
based  on  the  demand  for  supplies  for  the  army,  brought 
many  play-goers  to  the  cities,  and  the  officers  and  sol- 
diers on  duty  or  on  leave  made  up  an  addition  to  the 
resident  public  which  accounted  for  the  renewal  of 
prosperity.  To  many  of  these  Forrest  was  only  known 
by  his  colossal  fame,  and  eagerness  to  see  him  made 
his  audiences  larger  than  before.  Prices  were  raised, 
and  freely  paid  by  the  multitude  who  had  for  the  first 
time  an  opportunity  of  gratifying  a  long-cherished  wish. 
He  played  an  enormous  engagement  under  William 
Wheatley's  management  at  Niblo's  Garden  in  the  au- 
tumn of  1862  with  John  McCullough,  L.  R.  Shewell, 
J.  G.  Burnett,  Edward  Lamb,  J.  W.  Collier,  George 
Becks,  Thomas  E.  Morris,  Mrs.  Mary  Gladstane,  Mrs. 
J.  R.  Scott,  Madame  Ponisi,  Miss  Mary  Wells,  and  Miss 
Josephine  Henry  in  his  support ;  and  under  the  same 
management  appeared  later  in  the  Chestnut  Street  The- 
atre, Philadelphia.  In  Boston  the  vast  auditorium  of 
the  grandest  theatre  in  America  was  found  too  small  to 
contain  the  crowd  he  drew.  He  was  more  eager  for 
expressions  of  approbation  than  ever ;  and  one  evening, 
some  person  having  "hushed  down  "  arising  demonstra- 
tion of  approval,  he  addressed  the  audience  upon  the 


MATURITY.  lOI 

matter  when  the  curtain  fell  and  he  was  called  to  the 
front,  saying  that  "  applause  was  the  reward  of  the  ar- 
tist, —  that  it  was  his  due  ;  and  he  who  would  rob  him 
of  it  would  pick  a  pocket." 

Severe  attacks  of  gout  were  beginning  to  tell  upon 
that  herculean  form,  sapping  and  undermining  it ;  but 
he  seemed  to  suffer  no  diminution  of  power  in  the  great 
characters  which  so  well  suited  him,  and  he  was  said 
to  be  acting  better  than  ever  before.  His  summers 
were,  many  of  them,  spent  at  Cohasset,  near  the  ocean 
which  he  so  dearly  loved.  Here  with  his  friend  Oakes 
the  vacations  passed  as  cheerfully  as  disease  and  cark- 
ing  reminders  of  the  still  impending  lawsuit  would  per- 
mit. He  had  a  keen  sense  of  the  sublime  in  nature, 
and  once,  standing  on  the  beach  as  the  sea  rushed  in 
with  terrific  power  and  dashed  the  spray  about  him,  he 
exclaimed,  "  Let  him  who  disbelieves  in  an  Almighty 
Ruler  stand  here  and  be  converted." 

He  was  still  growing  more  and  more  brusque  and 
reserved.  He  hated  demonstration  or  display  of  any 
kind,  and  was  utterly  careless  of  men's  opinions  as  to 
his  private  behavior.  Angry  for  some  reason  with  Ed- 
win Booth,  who  was  his  namesake,  he  publicly  declined 
the  salutation  of  the  aged  widow  of  his  old  friend  Ju- 
nius Brutus  Booth,  in  order  to  mark  his  dislike  for  the 
son.  Standing  once  in  the  crowded  rotunda  of  the  old 
Winthrop  House  on  Tremont  Street  apart  and  alone, 
an  enthusiastic  acquaintance  recognizing  him  rushed 
across  the  room  and  impulsively  called  him  by  name  : 
"Why,  my  dear  Forrest,  how  do  you  do?"  Forrest 
muttered,  "  Pshaw,"  and  abruptly  turned  away,  where- 


102  EDWIN  FORREST. 

upon  the  disappointed  and  crestfallen  man  replied, 
"  Well,  sir,  I  've  heard  you  were  rude  and  selfish,  but 
I  never  supposed  you  were  a  brute  till  now."  With  an 
angry  glare  they  separated. 

His  charities  were  as  singular  as  his  behavior  at  this 
time.  He  loved  to  perform  such  duties  secretly,  and 
disliked  being  reminded  of  them.  It  is  said  that  his 
strange  movements  once  attracted  the  attention  and 
fired  the  curiosity  of  one  of  his  friends,  who  had  ob- 
served that  he  visited  a  certain  poor  neighborhood  in 
New  York,  and  always  evaded  reply  when  questioned 
on  the  subject.  He  was  followed  and  traced  to  a  mis- 
erable tenement,  where  he  made  a  short  stay,  evidently 
desiring  secrecy  in  his  going  and  coming.  Upon  in- 
quiry it  was  learned  that  he  had  found  a  worthy  man 
who  had  met  with  disaster  through  illness.  Forrest  had 
given  him  a  home  for  himself  and  his  family,  and  never  let 
him  know  even  the  name  of  his  benefactor.  When  his 
friends  afterwards  alluded  to  this  incident,  and  assured 
Forrest  that  his  kindness  was  discovered,  he  replied, 
"  You  have  taken  from  me  the  sweetest  pleasure  of  my 
charity,  and  injured  the  family  of  that  poor  man.  I  will 
go  there  no  more." 

He  gave  his  check  for  one  thousand  dollars  for  the 
use  of  the  Sanitary  Fund  early  in  the  war,  and  although 
a  Democrat,  and  bitterly  opposed  to  the  party  in  power, 
he  bore  a  sincere  love  for  the  Union, 'and  never  fal- 
tered in  his  belief  in  the  perpetuity  of  our  institutions. 
He  refused  to  play  for  a  benefit  for  the  relief  of  a  cer- 
tain charity,  but  he  sent  privately  his  check  for  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  to  the  committee.     He  thus 


MATURITY.  103 

gained  all  the  ignominy  arising  from  the  public  an- 
nouficement  of  his  refusal  to  play,  and  left  men  igno- 
rant of  his  private  bounty. 

He  had  grown  more  exacting  than  ever  about  his 
duty  to  his  art,  and  more  intolerant  than  ever  of  those 
who  were  negligent.  His  rebuke  was  unsparing  for  each 
offence  against  promptness,  and  oftentimes  the  quiet 
rehearsals  were  enlivened  by  an  eloquent  speech  from 
the  irate  tragedian  upon  the  charms  of  punctuality  and 
the  guilt  of  negligence. 

John  McCullough,  then  his  chief  support,  gives  an 
amusing  account  of  one  of  his  outbreaks.  An  actor 
was  late  for  reheareal,  and  the  rest  of  the  company,  in- 
cluding the  star,  were  compelled  to  await  his  arrival. 
He  came  at  last,  and  was  met  by  a  storm  of  abuse  from 
Forrest.  He  stammered  out  an  excuse,  but  it  availed 
nothing.  Forrest  went  on  excitedly,  and,  after  animad- 
verting upon  the  sin  of  indolence,  said  :  "  Mr.  McCul- 
lough has  been  with  me  for  years,  he  has  never  been 
for  one  moment  late,  and  I  hope,  sir,  you,  who  seem  to 
require  a  model  for  your  conduct,  will  imitate  that 
gentleman."  The  rehearsal  went  on,  and  presently 
McCuUough's  cue  for  entrance  was  given.  He  came 
not !  calls  were  made,  minutes  passed ;  there  was  an 
awful  pause,  during  which  the  color  came  and  went  in 
Forrest's  angry  face.  When  the  delay  had  become 
serious  and  the  silence  awful,  the  actor  who  had  been 
advised  to  follow  McCuUough's  example  dared,  slyly 
and  maliciously,  to  approach  the  irate  star  and  say, 
"  Sir,  you  will  have  to  give  me  a  new  model."  Forrest, 
not  deigning  a  reply,  turned  to  the  stage  manager  and 


104  EDWIN  FORREST. 

said :  "  Good  God,  sir,  go  on  with  the  business,  and 
send  for  McCuUough  ! "  The  settlement  with  that 
gentleman,  when  they  met,  is  described  as  a  stormy 
one.  This  was  not  the  first  or  last  outbreak  of  Forrest 
which  ended  in  his  own  defeat,  the  humor  of  others 
often  turning  aside  his  wrath. 

In  1863  the  writer  of  this  memoir,  then  young  in  his 
profession,  was  supporting  Mrs,  D.  P.  Bowers  at  the 
Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia.  Mr.  Forrest 
was  in  retirement,  living  at  his  Broad  Street  home,  but 
each  evening  he  came  to  the  theatre  and  occupied  a 
box,  an  attentive  listener.  Before  the  close  of  the  play 
on  several  occasions,  he  stepped  behind  the  scenes  and 
sent  for  the  young  actor.  With  a  word  of  advice  upon 
the  higher  or  lower  tone  in  a  speech,  or  a  correction  of 
emphasis  or  pronunciation,  perhaps  now  and  then  a 
word  of  praise,  politely  and  shortly  he  would  say 
"  Good  night,"  and  leave  abruptly.  His  suggestions  were 
always  gratefully  received,  and  he  seemed  to  take  pleas- 
ure in  repeating  them.  On  one  occasion,  when  he  had 
sent  in  a  card  correcting  a  pronunciation,  on  the  ground 
of  the  use  of  too  many  syllables  in  a  certain  word,  and 
the  reply  went  back  doubting  the  truth  of  his  hint,  a 
reference  was  recommended  to  the  dictionary,  in  which, 
it  is  needless  to  say,  the  veteran  was  found  correct. 

It  was  about  this  time,  or  a  little  earlier,  that  Barry 
Sullivan  played  an  engagement  at  the  Walnut  Street 
Theatre,  Philadelphia.  It  was  said  that  he  possessed 
all  the  worst  faults  of  Macready ;  and  his  innovations 
in  the  text  of  his  parts  and  his  mechanical  style  made 
him  unpopular  with  Forrest,  who  perhaps  saw  in  him 


MATURITY.  105 

some  of  the  qualities  which  recalled  his  quarrel  with 
Macready,  and  hence  he  could  do  him  no  justice.  He 
had  shown  his  dislike  of  many  changes  in  the  produc- 
tion of  "  Hamlet "  during  the  first  two  acts,  as  given  by 
Sullivan,  and  his  bearing  had  attracted  the  attention  of 
Sullivan  and  the  audience.  Hamlet  bided  his  time, 
and  when  he  came  to  a  point  in  the  second  act  which 
he  thought  offered  him  the  opportunity  he  wanted,  he 
took  Guildenstem  and  Rosencrantz  aside,  and,  advancing 
towards  the  box  in  which  Forrest  sat,  pointed  his  finger 
at  him  and  said,  in  the  words  of  the  text,  "  Do  you  see 
that  great  baby,  yonder?  He  is  not  yet  out  of  his 
swaddling-clouts."  Mingled  hisses  and  applause  were 
the  actor's  reward  for  what  was  certainly  "  a  hit,  a  pal- 
pable hit,"  although  perhaps  not  in  the  best  of  taste. 

The  new  spirit  which  had  entered  the  dramatic  pro- 
fession was  inimical  to  the  old  actors,  —  to  the  old 
methods.  English  importations  had  filled  the  Ameri- 
can theatres  with  men  and  women  who  returned  Forrest 
scorn  for  scorn.  England  furnished  the  nursery  for 
what  is  falsely  called  burlesque,  — a  style  of  performance 
which  tickled  the  diseased  palates  of  those  who,  by  their 
encouragement,  shared  in  the  ignominy  belonging  to  the 
performance.  The  votaries  of  this  disgraceful  school, 
who  tried  to  attach  themselves  to  the  deceqt  drama, 
made  no  scruple  of  holding  up  to  derision  all  that  was 
grand  or  noble  in  old  plays  or  old  players.  Caricature 
imitations  of  the  manner  of  Forrest  provoked  the  laugh- 
ter of  the  public  ;  and  no  burlesque  was  complete  which 
did  not  give  some  new  feature  of  personal  or  mental 
characteristics  of  the  tragedian.     It  is  to  the  credit  of 


I06  EDWIN  FORREST. 

the  American  actors  of  to-day  that  all  this  innovation, 
which  is  now  happily  losing  its  savor,  from  simple  in- 
ability to  go  further  in  slander,  belongs  to  another  na- 
tion, to  another  order.  Against  the  reign  of  jfilth  and 
all  indecency,  as  represented  in  the  orgies  of  the  "  Black 
Crook,"  or  the  naked  inanities  of  the  female  burlesque 
or  blond  absurdities,  Forrest,  and  the  American  stage 
generally,  opposed  the  text  of  Shakspere,  or  that  of  the 
standard  authors  of  Europe  and  America. 

The  review  of  this  era  of  Forrest's  life  shows  us  the 
veteran  going  beyond  the  period  of  production,  and 
approaching  that  in  which  his  greatness  matured.  A 
new  generation  confirms  or  condemns  the  verdict  of 
the  past.  Curiosity  mingles  with  a  love  of  the  old 
literature  and  the  old  tragedies ;  and  the  past  confronts 
the  future  on  the  threshold  of  the  fleeting  present.  In 
1865  Mr.  Forrest  had  welbiigh  reaped  the  harvest  of 
his  life,  and  had  gained  fresh  laurels  even  while  years 
of  labor  were  telling  upon  the  marked  features,  and  age 
had  whitened  the  once  raven  locks.  Could  he  have 
stopped  here ;  could  the  veteran  have  rested  his  claim 
to  the  regard  of  posterity  upon  the  mature  and  healthy 
efforts  of  his  life  ;  could  he  have  retired  like  Macready, 
while  his  body  was  as  powerful  as  his  giant  mind, — then 
the  sad  sight  of  the  neglected  genius  might  have  been 
spared  us,  and  the  historian's  duty  made  more  pleasing. 
One  feeble  glimmer  lights  up  the  decline  of  this  great 
luminary,  and  then  the  night  comes,  and  the  end. 


HIS  CALIFORNIA    TRIP.  I07 


CHAPTER    X. 

HIS  CALIFORNU  TRIP. 

THE  following  letters  will  fittingly  introduce  the 
pages  which   treat  of  the  engagement  in  Cali- 
fornia :  — 

"State  CAPrroL,  Sacramento,  April  20,  1857. 

"Respected  Sir,  —  The  undersigned.  State  officers 
and  members  of  the  Senate  and  Assembly,  a  small  portion 
of  your  many  admirers  on  the  coast  of  the  Pacific,  avail 
themselves  of  this,  the  only  mode  under  their  control,  of 
signifying  to  you  the  very  high  estimation  as  a  gentleman 
and  an  actor  in  which  you  are  generally  and  universally 
held  by  all  who  have  a  taste  for  the  legitimate  drama. 
Genuine  taste  and  rigid  criticism  have  united  with  the 
verdict  of  impartial  iiistory  to  pronounce  you  the  head  and 
leader  of  the  noble  profession  to  which  you  have  conse- 
crated abilities  that  would  in  any  sphere  of  life  render  you 
eminent.  We  believe  that  so  long  as  Shakspere  is  re- 
membered and  his  words  revered,  your  name,  too,  will  be 
remembered  with  pride  by  all  who  glory  in  the  triumphs 
of  our  Saxon  literature. 

"  In  conclusion,  permit  us  to  express  the  hope  that  your 
existing  engagements  will  so  far  coincide  with  our  wishes 
as  to  permit  us  at  an  early  day  to  welcome  you  to  the 
shores  of  the  Pacific,  assuring  you  of  a  warm  and  sincere 
reception,  so  far  as  our  efforts  can  accomplish  the  same  ; 
and  we  feel  that  we  but  express  the  sentiments  of  every 
good  citizen  of  the  State." 


I08  EDWIN  FORREST. 

This  letter  was  signed  by  the  Governor  of  California, 
the  Lieutenant-Governor,  Treasurer,  Secretary  of  State, 
Comptroller  of  the  State,  twenty-seven  members  of  the 
Senate,  the  Secretary  and  Sergeant-at-Arms,  and  by 
forty-eight  members  of  the  House  of  Representatives. 

Edwin  Forrest  replied  :  — 

"  Philadelphia,  July  lo,  1857. 

"  Gentlemen,  —  With  a  grateful  pleasure  I  acknowl- 
edge your  communication  of  April  20,  delivered  to  me  a 
short  time  since  by  the  hands  of  Mr.  Maguire.  Your 
flattering  invitation,  so  generously  bestowed  and  so  grace- 
fully expressed,  to  enter  the  Golden  Gate  and  visit  your 
beautiful  land,  is  one  of  the  highest  compliments  I  have 
ever  received.  It  is  an  honor,  I  venture  to  say,  that  was 
never  before  conferred  on  one  of  my  profession. 

"It  comes  not  from  the  lovers  of  the  drama  or  men  of 
letters  merely,  but  from  the  Executives,  the  Representa- 
tives, and  other  high  officials  of  a  great  State  of  the 
American  Confederacy,  and  I  shall  ever  regard  it  as  one  of 
the  proudest  compliments  in  all  my  professional  career. 

"  Believe  me,  I  deeply  feel  this  mark  of  your  kindness 
hot  as  mere  incense  to  professional  or  personal  vanity,  but 
as  a  proud  tribute  to  that  art  which  I  have  loved  so  well 
and  followed  so  long. 

'  The  youngest  of  the  sister  arts, 
Where  all  their  beauty  blends.' 

This  art,  permit  me  to  add,  from  my  youth  I  have  sought 
personally  to  elevate  and  professionally  to  improve,  more 
from  the  truths  in  nature's  infallible  volume  than  from 
the  pedantic  words  of  the  schools,  —  a  volume  open  to  all, 
and  which  needs  neither  Greek  nor  Latin  lore  to  be  under- 
stood. 


HIS  CALIFORNIA    TRIP.  109 

"  And  now,  gentlemen,  although  I  greatly  regret  that 
it  is  not  in  my  power  to  accept  your  invitation,  I  sincerely 
trust  there  will  be  a  '  time  for  such  a  word,'  when  we  may 
yet  meet  together  under  the  roof  of  one  of  those  proud 
temples  consecrated  to  the  drama  by  the  taste  and  munifi- 
cence of  your  fellow-citizens." 

These  letters,  written  in  1857,  truly  expressed  the 
actor's  belief  that  he  would  be  unable  to  visit  the  Pa- 
cific coast,  on  account  of  the  long  journey  and  the 
hardships  of  the  sea,  which  he  ever  dreaded  j  but  in 
1866  circumstances  had  changed  his  purpose,  and 
caused  him  to  face  the  long  voyage  and  the  verdict 
of  a  public  which  had  appalled  him  before. 

The  previous  year,  while  playing  the  part  of  Damon 
at  the  Holliday  Street  Theatre,  in  Baltimore,  the  weather 
being  very  cold  and  the  theatre  open  to  draughts,  he 
was  seized  with  a  sudden  illness,  which  was  followed  by 
very  serious  results.  Suffering  the  most  intense  agony, 
he  was  able  to  get  to  the  end  of  the  part ;  but  when  his 
robes  were  laid  aside  and  physicians  summoned,  it  was 
found  to  his  horror  that  he  had  suffered  a  partial  paraly- 
sis of  the  sciatic  nerve.  In  an  instant  the  sturdy  gait, 
the  proud  tread,  of  the  herculean  actor  were  forever 
gone ;  for  he  never  regained  complete  control  of  his 
limb,  a  perceptible  hobble  being  the  legacy  of  the 
dreadful  visitation.  He  still  continued  to  act,  however ; 
but  the  painful  stride,  the  pitiful  jerk  which  accompa- 
nied his  gait,  the  evident  presence  of  the  disease  rob- 
bing him  of  free  action  in  one  arm  and  of  one  side  of 
the  body,  were  blots  which  stauied  the  grand  picture 
which  he  created  in  such  parts  as  Virginius,  Cade,  and 


I  lO  EDWIN  FORREST. 

Damon.  His  right  hand  was  almost  powerless,  and  he 
could  not  hold  his  sword.  The  public,  always  quick  to 
detect  the  decline  of  power  in  a  favorite,  and  too  ready 
to  forget  past  service,  began  to  desert  the  theatre  when 
the  veteran  appeared.  He  still  played  great  engage- 
ments where  he  had  not  been  seen  of  late  years ;  but 
in  the  old  cities  his  audiences  grew  more  and  more 
meagre,  while  those  of  his  rivals  were  increased. 

He  now,  in  1866,  decided  to  go  to  California,  urged 
again  by  the  manager  in  San  Francisco.  He  made 
every  preparation  for  the  jourtiey,  playing,  meantime, 
in  several  of  the  Western  cities.  In  Chicago  he  gave 
five  performances  at  Crosby's  Opera  House,  to  an 
average  of  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  nightly.  This 
gratified  him  exceedingly,  and  consoled  him  for  the 
mortifications  he  had  endured  elsewhere  from  public 
neglect.  To  James  Oakes  he  wrote  exultingly  as  fol- 
lows :  "  Eighteen  years  since  I  acted  here  in  a  small 
theatre,  of  which  the  present  Mayor  of  Chicago,  J.  B. 
Rice,  Esq.,  was  manager.  The  population,  then  about 
six  thousand,  is  now  one  hundred  and  eighty  thousand, 
with  a  theatre  that  would  grace  Naples,  Florence,  or 
Paris.  The  applause  I  have  received  here  has  been  as 
enthusiastic  as  I  have  ever  known,  and  the  money 
return  greater.  It  beats  the  history  of  the  stage  in 
New  York,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  Charles- 
ton, and  New  Orleans.  Give  me  joy,  my  dear  and 
steadfast  friend,  that  the  veteran  does  not  lag  superflu- 
ous on  the  stage." 

The  last  line  of  the  above  letter  shows  the  feeling  of 
the  worn  and  broken  man,  as  he  heard  the  diminishing 


HIS  CALIFORNIA    TRIP.  Ill 

applause  in  his  favorite  cities.  His  marvel  at  the 
growth  of  Chicago  in  eighteen  years  would  have  been 
greater  could  he  have  lived  until  the  census  of  1880 
was  taken,  when  the  population  had  increased  to  half 
a  million  souls,  and  the  theatres  to  five  equally  fine  edi- 
fices, all  well  patronized.  In  quarrelling  with  J.  B.  Rice 
Forrest  lost  the  support  of  one  of  the  noblest  and  truest 
men  that  ever  lived ;  one  whose  advice  and  sturdy  aid 
would  have  been  a  safe  support  in  his  trials,  had  he 
chosen  to  be  guided  by  him. 

In  April,  1866,  he  went  to  San  Francisco.  At  that 
time  the  trip  was  made  by  steamer  from  New  York 
to  Aspinwall,  then  by  rail  across  the  narrow  strip  of 
isthmus  to  Panama,  where  another  steamer  awaited  to 
complete  the  voyage,  which  usually  occupied  about 
twenty-seven  or  thirty  days.  It  was  the  only  comfort- 
able way  of  reaching  the  far  West,  as  the  overland 
route  was  then  still  perilous  and  full  of  hardships.' 
Forrest  was  a  poor  sailor,  and  endless  anecdotes  are 
told  of  the  humors  of  this  trip  "arising  out  of  his  misery. 
The  vessel  on  the  Pacific  side  was  commanded  by  Cap- 
tain Bradbury  (well  known  to  his  friends  by  the  loving 
nickname  "Yorick"),  a  type  of  the  gentleman-sailor 
such  as  we  still  see  on  the  Cunard  or  Inman  line  of 
steamers,  —  hospitable,  courteous,  but  always  attentive 
to  duty.  He  was,  besides,  a  great  admirer  of  Forrest, 
and  did  all  that  lay  in  his  power  tq  make  his  journey 
pleasant.  Forrest's  immediate  companions  were  Mr. 
McCullough,  his  chief  support,  and  Mr.  McArdle,  his 
agent,  —  a  congenial  group.  By  the*  midnight  watch- 
fire,  when  all-  the  other  passengers  were  asleep,  or 


112  ED  WIN  FORREST. 

around  the  table  of  "  Yorick's  "  cabin,  over  a  bowl  of 
punch,  many  a  happy  hour  was  passed  in  song  and  jest 
or  well-told  anecdote.  Forrest,  however,  suffered  mis- 
erably from  sea-sickness.  On  one  occasion,  worn  out 
with  the  unceasing  motion  of  the  ship,  each  lurch  seem- 
ing to  wrench  his  very  vitals,  he  cried  out,  "  McArdle, 
McArdle  !  where  are  you? — "What  is  it,  sir?"  — 
"Tie  her  to  a  rock."  —  "Tie  what,  sir?"  — "This 
cursed  ship ;  do  you  hear  me,  tie  her  to  a  rock." — 
"  But  there  are  no  rocks  here,  sir ;  we  are  in  the  middle 
of  the  Pacific  Ocean."  —  "Then  run  the  cursed  ship 
ashore  ;  "  and  with  a  groan  the  weary  man  turned  his 
back  to  the  bewildered  McArdle  and  tried  again  to 
sleep.  These  fantastic  outbursts  seemed  to  afford  him 
some  relief,  as  they  gave  the  cue  for  laughter  to  his 
sympathizing  friends. 

At  last  a  cheerful  and  quiet  Sunday  came  around. 
The  sea  was  still,  a  cloudless  sky  above,  a  glassy  mirror 
below,  the  ship  ploughing  her  way  peacefully  through 
the  water.  Hardly  had  Forrest  ventured  on  deck  when 
Bradbury,  McCuUough,  and  some  other  kindred  spirits 
resolved  upon  a  practical  joke  as  a  relief  to  the  tedium 
of  the  voyage.  Forrest's  dislike  of  the  bigoted  mem- 
bers of  the  Church  has  often  been  told,  but  his  respect 
for  the  more  advanced  and  liberal  clergy  is  not  so  well 
known.  Among  the  passengers  was  a  loud-voiced  ex- 
horter  who  had  begged  on  two  former  Sundays  to  be 
allowed  to  preach  in  the  cabin.  It  was  the  custom  of 
Captain  Bradbury  to  read  the  service  of  the  Church  of 
England  himself  each  Sunday  to  his  ship's  company ; 
and  as  he  had  as  little  respect  as  Forrest  for  the  Chad- 


HIS  CALIFORNIA    TRIP.  II3 

bauds  of  the  pulpit,  he  declined  the  request  of  the  rev- 
erend gentleman.  Upon  this  day,  however,  he  relented, 
and  resolved  that  the  service  should  be  for  the  benefit 
of  Forrest.  He  urged  Forrest  to  attend,  assuring  him 
that  the  divine  was  a  well-known  orator  who  could  give 
an  eloquent  sermon,  and,  moreover,  a  brief  one.  After 
much  entreaty,  aided  by  the  urgent  advice  of  McCul- 
lough  and  his  other  friends,  he  consented  to  make  one 
of  the  congregation  in  the  cabin.  To  the  divine  now 
went  Bradbury,  told  him  that  the  profane  play-actor, 
the  renowned  Forrest,  was  eager  to  hear  him,  and  hoped 
he  would  make  his  sermon  long.  The  delighted 
preacher  consented,  seeing  a  lost  soul  in  the  balance 
which  he  might  happily  save.  Far  down  in  the  cabin, 
crowded  in  by  the  rest  of  the  passengers,  a  long  dis- 
tance from  the  door,  sat  Forrest,  surrounded  by  Brad- 
bury, McCullough,  and  the  others.  Soon  after  the 
prosy  exhorter  began  an  officer  of  the  ship  came  to  the 
door  of  the  cabin,  and  beckoned  the  captain,  who  stole 
softly  out.  McCullough  soon  responded  to  another  call, 
and  so  on,  until  Forrest  was  left  alone  without  a  friend. 
Meanwhile  the  preacher  thundered  on  in  English  fully 
an  hour,  then,  to  show  his  linguistic  dexterity,  he  dis- 
coursed for  half  an  hour  in  the  Sandwich  Islands  dialect, 
the  Kanaka.  Each  moral  axiom,  each  word  of  hope  to 
the  lost  soul,  was  given  to  Forrest  directly,  as  if  he  were 
the  only  individual  there  for  whom  those  words  were 
spoken.  The  faces  of  the  escaped  ones  appeared  now 
and  then  at  the  window,  but  the  glare  of  Forrest's  eyes 
as  he  met  theirs  was  ominous.     When  the  agony  was 

over,  the  jokers  were  not  to  be  found  until  the  wrath  of 
8 


114  ^^  ^^^  FORREST. 

the  irate  tragedian  had  had  time  to  subside  and  he  was 
sufficiently  calm  to  join  heartily  in  the  laughter  against 
himself. 

The  long  journey  ended  on  the  3d  of  May,  when  he 
entered  the  lovely  harbor  of  San  Francisco,  through 
whose  Golden  Gate  he  had  hoped  years  before  to  pass. 
The  people  of  that  fair  city,  perhaps  the  most  cosmo- 
poUtan  in  America,  were  eager  to  show  their  affection 
for  this  tragedian  who  had  encountered  such  trials  to 
bring  them  amusement.  It  was  a  novel  experience. 
The  veteran  actor  who  had  been  famous  when  Tele- 
graph Hill  was  a  barren  waste  looking  out  on  a  silent 
bay,  was  now  the  guest  of  a  city  whose  population 
numbered  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  million.  The  elements 
which  formed  the  society  of  San  Francisco  and  the 
whole  State  of  California  were  collected  from  the  re- 
motest parts  of  America,  and,  indeed,  of  the  whole 
world.  Each  State  had  sent  out  emigrants  in  search  of 
gold,  —  men  who  could  have  reached  the  highest  ranks 
in  their  own  sections,  but  who  now  saw  in  the  adven- 
turous pursuit  of  wealth  a  field  where  energy  might 
rapidly  roll  up  riches,  and  they  might  return  like  the 
Indian  nabob,  to  revel  in  their  newly-acquired  means 
in  their  old  homes.  These  men  had  known,  or  had 
heard  of,  Forrest  all  their  lives.  Many  of  them  had 
formed  a  part  of  his  support  in  the  audiences  on  the 
momentous  occasion  of  his  reappearance  at  the  end  of 
the  eventful  trial.  All  were  critics,  for  they  had  not 
been  so  long  in  exile  as  to  have  forgotten  their  dramatic 
experiences,  while  the  advantages  which  had  been 
theirs  in  the  East  made  them  wise  in  the  selection  of 


HIS  CALIFORNIA    TRIP.  I15 

their  idols.  Their  earliest  actors  were  Junius  Brutus 
Booth,  James  Stark,  and  Edwin  Booth  in  the  male 
tragic  line ;  while  Julia  Dean,  Laura  Keene,  Mrs.  John 
Wood,  Catherine  Sinclair,  and  other  well-known  actresses 
were  their  dramatic  heroines.  The  elder  Booth  had, 
comet-like,  flashed  across  their  sight,  and  given  them 
the  last  glimmer  of  that  irregular  genius  which  was 
soon  to  be  extinguished  in  dark  night.  James  Mur- 
doch had  delighted  the  San  Franciscans  with  those 
delicate  impersonations  of  genteel  comedy,  the  memory 
of  which  is  now  all  that  is  left  to  us.  In  a  word,  the 
audience  before  whom  Forrest  was  now  to  appear  had 
all  the  experience  of  old  theatre-goers,  all  the  memories 
of  the  current  theatre  of  their  age,  with  none  of  the 
fashionable  indifference  to  amusement  which  comes  of 
satiety.  It  was  then,  as  it  has  ever  since  remained,  a 
community  where  no  reputation  will  be  taken  blindly 
as  a  proof  of  excellence,  but  where  merit,  when  proved 
and  tried,  will  find  a  warmer  recognition,  a  heartier 
welcome,  a  more  vigorous  acceptance  perhaps,  than  in 
any  other  city  of  the  Union.  San  Francisco  has  proved 
the  grave  of  many  a  great  reputation,  the  starting-point 
and  outset  of  many  a  prosperous  career.  All  the  earlier 
fame  of  Davenport's  Hamlet  could  not  save  that  actor 
from  the  greatest  humiliation -of  his  life.  The  theatre, 
when  he  played  there,  was  crowded  at  his  opening,  but 
empty  before  the  end  of  the  third  act  of  the  tragedy. 
They  rejected  Jefferson's  estimate  of  his  own  powers, 
by  turning  him  the  cold  shoulder  when  he  appeared  in 
two  characters  unworthy  of  his  genius ;  but  they  were 
willing  to  canonize  him  when  he  at  last  honored  him- 


Il6  EDWIN  FORREST. 

self  and  them  by  playing  those  classic  parts  of  which  he 
is,  and  has  ever  been,  the  greatest  exponent. 

Forrest  was  met  by  the  heartiest  of  those  San  Fran- 
cisco welcomes.  Serenaded  by  night,  the  streets  were 
thronged  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  him  at  the  window ;  and 
when  the  actor's  well-known  face  was  seen,  a  shout 
went  up  which  gladdened  the  veteran's  heart.  Old 
friends  crowded  about  him  to  renew  the  memories  of 
the  past,  and  he  must  have  felt  that  here,  at  least,  his 
fame  was  secure  and  stable.  Places  for  the  opening 
night  were  sold  at  auction,  and  competition  like  that 
which  had  marked  the  Jenny  Lind  excitement  in  the 
East  sent  the  price  of  the  first  choice  of  seats  up  to 
five  hundred  dollars,  a  sum  which  one  eager  friend  and 
admirer  gladly  paid. 

When  the  night  of  the  14th  of  May  came,  Washing- 
ton Street  was  crowded  for  several  blocks,  long  before 
the  doors  of  the  theatre  were  opened,  and  when  at  last 
the  public  was  admitted,  the  few  places  left  unsold  and 
the  "  standing  room  only  "  were  soon  filled,  while  thou- 
sands were  turned  away  disappointed,  or  lingered  about 
the  door  to  catch  an  echo  of  the  applause  which  came 
from  within.  The  play  was  "  Richelieu."  His  recep- 
tion when  he  came  upon  the  stage  as  the  old  Cardinal 
was  deafening.  The  whole  audience  rose  and  cheered 
the  grand  old  actor,  and  it  was  several  minutes  before 
he  could  go  on  with  the  text.  The  reception  inspired 
him,  and  he  played  with  much  of  his  old  spirit ;  but 
the  audience  soon  detected  that  the  great  man  was  no 
longer  what  he  had  been,  the  giant  not  so  powerful  as 
of  yore.     When   the   curtain  fell,  disappointment  was 


HIS  CALIFORNIA    TRIP.  I  I7 

freely  expressed  by  many,  and  even  the  memories  of 
Stark  and  the  then  boyish  efforts  of  Edwin  Booth  were 
recalled  to  the  detriment  of  Edwin  Forrest.  A  gradual 
decline  in  receipts  showed  a  diminished  attendance, 
until,  at  the  end  of  thirty-five  performances,  he  with- 
drew, leaving  uncompleted  sixty-five  nights  of  his  en- 
gagement. 

During  this  time,  owing  to  his  ailments  and  his  want 
of  success  on  the  stage,  which  convinced  him  of  his 
failure  to  sustain  the  great  fame  which  had  preceded 
him,  his  temper  became  more  harsh  and  exacting  than 
ever.  The  property-man,  bringing  him  the  cup  which 
held  the  sponge  with  blood  for  his  face  and  hands 
in  "Macbeth,"  was  harshly  asked,  "What  is  this?" 
"  Blood,  sir,"  replied  the  terrified  man.  "  Blood," 
thundered  Forrest,  examining  the  pinkish  color  of  the 
liquid.  "  What  an  ass  you  must  be  not  to  know  the 
color  of  blood,  in  a  country  where  they  kill  a  man  a 
day  ! "  and  he  dashed  the  innocent  fluid  to  the  floor. 
The  trying  changes  of  the  climate  increased  his  gouty 
and  rheumatic  troubles,  and  added  to  his  moroseness. 
One  day,  being  asked  if  his  rheumatism  was  no  better, 
he  replied,  "  How  can  a  man  get  better  in  a  land  where 
they  have  a  climate  every  fifteen  minutes  !  " 

He  went  for  relief  to  the  Geysers,  and  was  carried 
into  the  valley  whose  natural  springs  are  the  wonder  of 
all  travellers,  unable  to  help  himself,  and  never  moving 
hand  or  foot  without  pain.  He  was  lifted  to  the  saddle 
of  a  Spanish  pony  by  the  strong  hands  of  his  attend- 
ants, then  moved  slowly  along  to  what  was  known  as 
the  "  Mud  Bath,"  to  whose  healing  qualities  he  owed 


Il8  EDWIN  FORREST. 

an  almost  instantaneous  restoration  to  health.     In  Sep- 
tember he  wrote  to  his  friend,  James  Oakes  :  — 

"  Here  I  am  still  enjoying  the  salubrious  air  of  the 
mountains  on  horseback  and  afoot,  and  bathing  in  waters 
from  the  hot  and  cold  springs  which  pour  their  affluent 
streams  on  every  hand.  My  health  is  greatly  improved, 
and  my  lameness  is  now  scarcely  perceptible.  In  a  few 
weeks  more  I  shall  return  to  San  Francisco  to  finish  my 
engagement,  which  was  interrupted  by  my  late  indisposi- 
tion. My  present  intention  is  not  to  return  to  the  East 
until  next  spring,  for  it  would  be  too  great  a  risk  to  en- 
counter the  rigors  of  a  winter  there  which  might  prove 
disastrous.  You  are  aware  that  the  winter  in  San  Fran- 
cisco is  much  more  agreeable  than  the  summer,  and  after 
my  professional  engagement  there  I  shall  visit  Sacra- 
mento, and  some  few  other  towns;  and  then  go  to  Los 
Angelos,  where  I  shall  enjoy  a  climate  quite  equal  to  that 
of  the  tropics.  I  am  determined  to  come  back  to  you  in 
perfect  health.  How  \  should  like  to  take  a  tramp  with 
you  into  the  mountains  this  blessed  day  !  I  can  give  you 
no  reasonable  idea  of  the  weather  here.  The  skies  are 
cloudless,  save  with  rare  and  roseate  shadows  ;  not  a  drop 
of  rain,  and  yet  no  drought,  no  aridity  ;  the  trees  are  fresh 
and  green,  and  the  air  as  exhilarating  as  champagne." 

His  recovery  was  almost  miraculous,  and  he  soon  set 
out  to  visit  the  wonders  of  California,  the  mammoth 
trees,  the  valleys,  and  those  glorious  mountains  whose 
names  are  enduring  monuments  of  the  great  men  after 
whom  they  are  called.  While  hoping  to  return  to  San 
Francisco  to  complete  his  engagement,  he  received 
news  of  the  dangerous  illness  of  one  of  his  sisters,  and 
he  resolved  to  start  at  once  for  home.     On  the  20th  of 


HIS  CALIFORNIA    TRIP.  119 

October  he  embarked,  turning  his  back  upon  the  new 
world  before  which  he  had  offered  his  mature  genius, 
and  where  his  physical  ailments  had  proved  a  barrier 
to  his  complete  success.  After  an  uneventful  journey 
he  reached  Philadelphia  at  last,  where  in  his  own  home, 
with  his  old  friends,  he  told  the  story  of  his  travels  to 
loving  and  eager  listeners. 


1 20  ED  WIN  FORREST. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


HIS  LAST  APPEARANCE. 


WHEN  he  had  recovered  his  spirits  after  the 
return  from  San  Francisco,  Edwin  Forrest  re- 
sumed his  profession.  After  forty  years  of  experience 
in  the  easier  and  less  arduous  paths  of  the  stage,  he 
became  again  a  Stroller,  taking  up  the  thread  of  his  life 
where  he  had  left  it  in  those  far-off  Southern  days,  and 
weaving  it  into  the  web  of  his  declining  years.  Into 
cities  where  his  name  had  been  spoken  of  with  awe  as 
the  great  master  of  the  drama,  where  even  actors  of 
ordinary  rank  and  merit  disdained  to  play,  Forrest  now 
ventured,  with  companies  organized  only  to  make 
prominent  the  central  figure,  composed  of  support 
"  caught  up  in  the  alarm  of  fear  and  hurry,"  and  man- 
aged, often,  by  adventurers  who  cared  nothing  for  the 
fame  of  the  tragedian,  save  as  an  attraction  to  bring 
profit  to  themselves.  He  travelled  for  more  than  two 
full  seasons,  but  was  no  longer  able  to  give  perform- 
ances free  from  the  taint  of  his  bodily  weakness,  or  of 
the  fretful  temper  which  was  intensified  by  the  discom- 
forts of  travel  and  by  poor  food.  Those  who  saw  him 
for  the  first  time  were  disappointed,  as  they  compared 
him  with  the  herculean   ideal  which  they  had  been 


HIS  LAST  APPEARANCE.  121 

taught  to  expect.  The  poverty  of  his  surroundings 
gave  to  the  miserable  picture  an  additional  weight  to 
drag  him  down,  and  where  he  hoped  to  leave  a  fresh 
mark  of  his  giant  powers,  the  result  was  often  only 
bitter  disappointment,  endured  in  silence  or  expressed 
harshly  in  satirical  epigrams. 

Young  writers,  whose  maiden  pens  had  as  yet  dealt 
only  with  police  reports  or  details  of  local  interest, 
whose  experience  of  the  drama  extended  back  to  yes- 
terday's visit  to  the  circus  or  the  hasty  perusal  of  one  of 
the  stage  editions  of  the  text  of  some  old  play,  now  be- 
came eloquent  as  they  fleshed  their  maiden  swords  in 
the  old  and  worn  armor  of  the  dying  gladiator.  In 
every  town  he  was  assailed  by  some  local  wonder,  with 
downy  lip,  who  now  saw  through  what  he  called  the 
shaUow  disguise  of  an  artist  whose  genius  had  inspired 
the  admiration  of  the  oldest  and  wisest  critics  of  the 
land ;  and  he  found  in  one  of  the  most  remote  of  villa- 
ges to  which  he  had  penetrated,  led  by  the  adventurous 
spirit  of  the  money-seeking  manager,  a  young  writer  who, 
after  having  for  several  days  written  the  coarsest  abuse 
of  Forrest,  boasted  openly  that  "  he  had  driven  the  driv- 
eller from  the  stage." 

Faults  which  would  have  disgraced  the  merest  tyro  in 
the  art  were  unscrupulously  attributed  to  Forrest.  All 
the  cries  which  the  school  of  immaculate  tragedy  had 
of  old  used  against  him  were  quoted  anew ;  "  robust," 
"  howling,"  "  tiger,"  were  common  epithets  by  which 
the  grand  old  man  was  greeted ;  and  all  his  old  service 
seemed  forgotten. 

It  was  indeed  strange  that  he  should  have  lingered  so 


122  EDWIN  FORREST. 

long  before  the  public,  that  having  outlived  his  vigor  he 
should  have  acted  when  his  powers  had  declined,  and 
when  he  could  no  longer  give  complete  and  perfect 
representations  of  the  grand  heroes  with  whom  he  was 
identified ;  but  Forrest  was  not  free  from  the  delusion 
which  has  ever  clung  to  the  hearts  of  actors,  that  there 
exists  a  sentimental  union  between  the  public  and  the 
artist.  When  the  force  is  gone  which  was  once  able  to 
give  perfect  performances,  the  public  too  often  forgets 
the  glories  of  the  past  in  the  shortcomings  of  the  pres- 
ent. Acting  for  which  an  apology  must  be  offered  is 
already  condemned,  and  no  service  in  former  days  will 
excuse  defects  in  these.  The  relation  of  audience  and 
player  is  purely  a  professional  one,  and  the  interest 
which  the  public  has  for  an  actor  is  that  which  arises 
from  a  pleasure  felt  in  the  perfect  performance  of  duty  ; 
but  while  the  audiences  easily  lay  aside  or  forget  their 
favorites,  the  sensitive  actor  too  often  accepts  applause 
as  a  personal  tribute,  never  to  be  withheld,  until  he 
awakes  to  the  reality  with  a  bitter  sense  of  what  he  con- 
siders the  fickleness  of  the  multitude. 

Into  this  error  Forrest  fell.  The  idol  of  four  genera- 
tions could  not  realize  that  a  fifth  would  hesitate  to  ac- 
cept his  great  fame,  and  presume  to  demand  that  he 
should  be  equal  to  that  reputation,  even  now  in  his  old 
age.  Infirmity  and  disease  were  good  reasons  why  he 
should  abstain  from  acting,  but  they  were  poor  excuses 
for  blemished  pictures. 

In  many  places  he  had  hardly  been  heard  of,  and  he 
was  often  mortified  to  see  that  the  box-office  told  a 
humiliating  story  of  his  want  of  popularity.     He  began 


HIS  LAST  APPEARANCE.  1 23 

to  set  as  much  value  upon  a  favorable  notice  now,  no 
matter  who  was  the  writer,  as  he  once  did  upon  metro- 
politan criticisms,  such  as  those  of  "  Colley  Cibber  "  in 
his  own  city.  His  scrap-book  contains,  carefully  pre- 
served by  the  side  of  a  splendid  analysis  of  Leggett's 
or  Raymond's,  a  long,  windy  effusion  of  some  obscure 
country  novice  in  dramatic  writing. 

His  old  enemy  the  gout  grew  stronger,  and  the  cold 
weather  caused  him  intense  suffering.  He  was  com- 
pelled often  to  forfeit  his  engagements  for  a  time,  and 
take  an  inverval  of  rest  at  some  obscure  hotel,  where 
poor  fare  and  lonely  surroundings  only  increased  his 
malady  and  added  to  his  moroseness.  In  reply  to  a 
telegram  from  a  Western  manager  who  asked  him  if  he 
would  play  in  his  city,  and  for  how  long,  he  answered, 
"  Ten  nights  if  the  weather  is  temperate ;  ten  minutes 
if  it  is  cold."  Shivering  beside  a  cheerless  stove  behind 
the  scenes  of  a  theatre  of  a  far  Western  town,  he  ex- 
claimed, "  I  am  worth  three  hundred  thousand  pounds 
sterling,  and  I  can't  purchase  five  cents'  worth  of  heat 
for  my  body  !  "  Dressed  one  cold  night  in  St.  Louis  for 
Virginiiis,  in  which  he  stood  almost  nakedly  exposed  to 
the  cold  air  which  entered  the  theatre  by  a  thousand 
neglected  crannies,  he  muttered  to  himself  shiveringly, 
"  I  wish  I  wore  paddings  on  my  legs."  A  wag  who  stood 
near  and  overheard  him  said  softly  to  him,  "  Why  don't 
you,  sir?  "  With  a  laugh  as  he  glanced  down  upon  his 
magnificent  proportions,  his  good-nature  returned,  and 
the  cold  was  for  the  time  forgotten. 

As  his  gait  grew  more  and  more  feeble,  he  was  com- 
pelled to  resort  to  artifice  to  conceal  his  infirmities; 


124 


EDWIN  FORREST. 


and  one  of  his  companions  tells  a  touching  story  of  his 
suffering  in  this  direction.  He  had  always  been  used 
in  the  last  scene  of  "  Damon  and  Pythias  "  to  leap  out 
of  the  arms  of  Pythias,  at  the  voice  of  Diofiysius,  and 
to  spring  upon  the  scaffold  with  a  gymnast's  agility  and 
perfect  grace.  Each  night  now  it  was  his  custom  to 
inspect  the  platform  and  try  this  jump  before  the  rise  of 
the  curtain.  The  height  —  ordinarily  three  feet  —  had 
been  gradually  lessened  at  each  performance,  until,  at 
last,  one  night  it  was  found  that  he  could  not  make  his 
step  until  it  had  been  cut  down  to  three  inches.  Being 
asked  if  it  would  do,  he  said,  sadly,  "  Yes ;  "  and  turned 
away  to  hide  the  tears  that  fell  as  he  thought  of  his  de- 
caying manhood.  His  performances,  robbed  of  the 
activity  of  youth  or  the  graceful  movements  of  mature 
age,  became,  on  most  occasions,  declamatory  exhibi- 
tions in  costume. 

In  the  larger  cities  of  the  East,  which  he  had  neg- 
lected for  years,  he  was  almost  forgotten,  save  by  those 
older  theatre-goers  to  whom  the  new  drama  was  a 
stranger.  The  traditions  of  the  stage  were  passing  into 
new  hands.  The  Shaksperean  plays  were  receiving 
pictorial  interpretation  and  an  unusual  scholastic  treat- 
ment which  somewhat  atoned  for  the  absence  of  vigor 
in  the  actors.  He  who  had  borne  the  banner  of  the 
old  school  and  carried  the  standard  into  the  camp  of 
the  foreigner  was  now  a  forgotten  veteran,  who  had 
surrendered  into  younger  hands  the  battle-flag  of  old. 
He  was  present  one  afternoon  at  one  of  the  famous  re- 
vivals at  Booth's  Theatre.  It  was  reported  in  the  wings 
that  the  old  master  was  in  a  back  seat  of  the  second 


I/IS  LAST  APPEARANCE.  12$ 

gallery,  grimly  watching  the  pictorial  embellishments  of 
one  of  his  own  great  characters.  Mr.  Booth,  on  hear- 
ing this,  immediately  despatched  his  business  manager 
to  offer  him  the  use  of  the  stage-box.  They  were  not 
on  speaking  terms,  but  Booth  felt  he  was  but  doing  his 
duty  to  a  veteran  hero.  Stepping  softly  behind  For- 
rest, the  manager  touched  him  on  the  shoulder,  and 
said,  "Is  this  Mr.  Forrest?"  "No,"  growled  he,  as 
he  turned  away  and  resumed  his  observation  of  the 
play.  Riding  with  him  shortly  after  the  revival  of 
"Julius  Caesar"  at  Booth's  Theatre,  in  which  the 
writer  had  borne  a  part,  the  question  of  scenic  embel- 
lishment and  pictorial  fidelity  to  place  and  costume 
were  discussed.  He  gave  vent,  good-naturedly,  to  his 
own  prejudices  against  what  he  called  the  "  scene-paint- 
er's drama,"  and  said  that  he  preferred  to  play  even 
Coriolanus  in  a  simple  but  appropriate  setting,  to  all 
the  gaudy  kickshaws  by  which  modem  dramatic  art  is 
swaddled  and  smothered. 

To  add  to  his  trials  during  these  years,  he  was  called 
upon  to  part  with  his  beloved  sister  Caroline.  She 
died  in  1869.  He  wrote:  "Caroline  died  last  night. 
We  have  a  sad  house.  Why,  under  such  bereavements, 
has  God  not  given  us  some  comforting,  reasonable  hope 
in  the  future  where  these  severed  ties  of  friendship  and 
love  may  be  again  united  ?  Man's  vanity  and  self-love 
have  betrayed  him  into  such  a  belief,  but  who  knows 
that  the  fact  substantiates  it?" 

In  1871  Eleanora,  the  last  of  his  little  family  at  home, 
passed  away.  He  wrote  :  "  My  sister  Eleanora  is  dead, 
and  there  is  now  no  one  on  earth  whose  veins  bear 


126  EDWIN  FORREST. 

blood  like  mine.  My  heart  is  desolate."  He  stood 
beside  his  hearth-stone  alone  and  hopeless. 

We  are  coming  now  to  the  last  theatrical  perform- 
ances of  the  first  and  greatest  of  American  actors.  In 
187 1  and  1872  he  made  one  of  the  supreme  efforts  of 
his  life.  His  labors  were  amazing,  his  travels  a  marvel, 
when  the  state  of  his  health  is  considered,  and  his  finan- 
cial success  surprising  even  for  one  so  used  to  fortune. 
His  last  performances  were  pronounced  by  his  old  ad- 
mirers equal  to  his  earlier  ones,  and  it  was  claimed  that 
his  fires  flashed  with  their  wonted  splendors  before  ex- 
piring forever.  During  this  last  season  he  played  suc- 
cessively in  Philadelphia,  Cincinnati,  Columbus,  New 
Orleans,  Nashville,  Galveston,  Houston,  Omaha,  Mem- 
phis, Kansas  City,  St.  Louis,  Quincy,  Pittsburg,  Cleve- 
land, Buffalo,  Detroit,  Rochester,  Syracuse,  Utica,  Troy, 
and  Albany. 

His  last  engagement  in  New  York  took  place  in  Feb- 
ruary, 1 87 1.  He  played  Lear  and  Richelieu,  his  two 
greatest  parts.  The  supporting  company  was  poor,  the 
theatre  —  the  Lyceum,  on  Fourteenth  Street  —  un- 
popular, and  the  weather  unusually  severe.  There  is 
something  absolutely  pathetic  in  this  engagement,  so 
inauspiciously  closing  a  service  of  half  a  century.  The 
newspapers  gave  an  impressive  emphasis  to  the  occa- 
sion, and  the  voice  of  malice  was  hushed  in  the  pres- 
ence of  that  strange  spectacle  of  a  great  light  going 
out  in  flickers  of  its  old  brightness,  giving  forth  only 
rare  intermittent  flashes.  The  veteran  writes  to  his 
faithful  Oakes  :  "  Well,  I  am  here  in  New  York  once 
more,  and  on  Monday  next  begin  again  my  professional 


HIS  LAST  APPEARANCE.  12/ 

labors,  —  labors  begun  more  than  forty  years  ago  in  the 
same  city.  What  changes  since  then  in  men  and 
things  !  Will  any  one  of  that  great  and  enthusiastic 
audience  which  greeted  my  efforts  as  a  boy  be  here 
on  Monday  evening  next  to  witness  the  matured  per- 
formances of  the  man?  If  so,  how  I  should  like  to 
hear  from  his  own  lips  if  the  promises  of  springtime 
have  been  entirely  fulfilled  by  the  fruits  of  the  autumn 
of  life  ! " 

This  letter  shows  how  little  heed  he  paid  to  the  crip- 
pled gait,  the  feeble  hand,  and  the  weakened  physique 
which  had  once  answered  the  call  of  his  commanding 
brain.  No  words  can  so  well  describe  the  impressions 
of  these  final  performances  as  those  in  which  Winter 
and  Sedley,  Stuart  and  Moray,  used  in  writing  of  them. 
Extracts  are  offered  here  :  — 

"  Never  were  plaudits  better  deserved  by  any  actor  than 
those  which  have  been  showered  down  upon  Forrest  dur- 
ing the  past  week.  In  his  prime,  when  theatres  were 
crowded  by  the  brightest  and  fairest  of  America,  who 
listened  spellbound  to  the  favorite  of  the  hour,  he  never 
played  this  character  half  so  well.  He  was  for  the  mo- 
ment Lear,  but  not  Shakspere's  old  man ;  he  was  For- 
rest's Lear.  Seeing  and  hearing  him  under  the  disad- 
vantages of  a  mangled  text,  a  poor  company,  a  miserable 
mise  en  schte,  and  a  thin  house,  the  visitor  must  still  be 
impressed  by  the  one  grand  central  figure,  so  eloquent,  so 
strong,  so  sweet  in  gentlest  pathos.  He  is  the  King  Lear 
of  the  American  stage ;  he  gave  to  his  children,  the  pub- 
lic, all  that  he  had,  and  now  they  have  deserted  him.  They 
have  crowned  a  new  king,  before  whom  they  bow,  and  the 
*  old  man  eloquent '  is  cheered  by  few  voices.    The  con- 


128  ED  WIN  FORREST. 

sciousness  of  his  royal  nature  supports  him,  but  still  he  is 
deserted  and  alone.  He  bowed  his  head  slightly  in  re- 
sponse to  the  acclamations  of  those  scantily  filled  seats. 
But  throughout  the  play  there  was  an  added  dignity  of 
sorrow,  which  showed  that  the  neglect  of  the  public  had 
wounded  him.  He  knew  his  fate.  He  recognized  that  he 
was  a  discrowned  king,  and  that  the  fickle  public  had 
crowned  another  not  worthy  of  sovereignty  and  having  no 
sceptre  of  true  genius.  Actors  maj^  come  and  actors  may 
go,  but  it  will  be  centuries  before  a  Lear  arise  like  unto 
this  man  Forrest,  whom  the  public  seems  to  have  so  nearly 
forgotten." 

Writers  who  had  formerly  used  little  delicacy  in  ex- 
pressing their  censure  of  his  performance  n'ow  spoke 
with  tenderness  and  affection  of  these  last  fruits  of  his 
genius,  and  recognized  a  mellowness  in  tone,  and  a>sad- 
ness  as  of  a  near  farewell,  which  touched  the  heart  and 
silenced  harsh  thoughts.  He  had  lived  through  a  man- 
hood of  hard,  unsympathetic  experience  into  an  age 
when  pity  mingled  with  reverence  for  duty  done.  After 
twenty  nights  the  curtain  fell  for  the  last  time  between 
Edwin  Forrest  and  a  New  York  audience.  But  his 
final  stage  appearance  was  yet  to  come,  and  it  should 
be  approached  Avith  a  tender  sentiment  of  the  loss  which 
was  so  soon  to  befall  the  American  drama  in  the  fare- 
well of  its  grandest  performer. 

On  the  night  of  March  25,  1872,  Forrest  opened  in 
Lear  at  the  Globe  Theatre,  Boston.  The  house  was 
crowded  to  suffocation,  and  the  applause  which  greeted 
him  was  the  most  flattering  tribute  of  his  career.  From 
Mr.  Alger's  ample  biography  we  quote  this  letter  from  a 
"  distinguished  author  "  who  was  present :  — 


HIS  LAST  APPEARANCE.  1 29 

"  I  went  last  night  to  see  Forrest.  I  saw  Lear  himself ; 
and  never  can  I  forget  him,  the  poor,  discrowned,  wan- 
dering king,  whose  every  look  and  tone  went  to  the  heart. 
Though  mimic  sorrows  latterly  have  Uttle  power  over 
me,  I  could  not  suppress  my  tears  in  the  last  scene.  The 
tones  of  the  heart-broken  father  linger  in  my  ear  like  the 
echo  of  a  distant  strain  of  sad,  sweet  music,  inexpressibly 
mournful  yet  sublime.  The  whole  picture  will  stay  in  my 
memory  so  long  as  soiil  and  body  hang  together." 

"  Lear  "  was  played  six  nights.  During  the  second 
week  he  was  announced  for  Richelieu  and  Virginitis; 
but  he  caught  a  violent  cold  on  Sunday,  and  labored 
sorely  on  Monday  evening  through  the  part  of  Riche- 
lieu. On  Tuesday  he  repeated  the  performance,  against 
the  advice  of  friends  and  physicians.  Rare  bursts  <Jf 
his  old  power  lighted  up  the  play,  but  he  labored  pite- 
ously  on  against  his  increasing  illness  and  threatened 
pneumonia.  When  stimulants  were  offered  he  rejected 
them,  declaring  "  that  if  he  died  to-night  he  should  still 
be  his  old  royal  self." 

Announced  for  Virginius  the  following  evening,  he 
was  unable  to  appear.  A  severe  attack  of  pneumonia 
developed  itself;  he  was  carried  to  his  hotel,  and  his 
last  engagement  was  brought  to  an  abrupt  and  melan- 
choly end. 

A  few  printed  opinions  of  Forrest's  acting,  expressed 
at  different  periods  during  his  long  career  by  fully  com- 
petent critics,  may  prove  not  without  interest  here,  as 
showing  the  regard  in  which  he  was  held  by  men  of 
various  classes  and  conditions  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic. 

9 


130  EDWIN  FORREST. 

Mr.  Phelps,  in  his  "  Players  of  a  Century  "  (Albany, 
1880),  quotes  from  th&  Albany  Advertiser,  October  25, 
1825,  a  criticism  of  Forrest,  —  one  of  the  earliest  dis- 
interested ones  that  are  preserved  :  — 

"  Mr,  Forrest  is  a  stranger  to  us ;  we  are  ignorant 
whether  he  be  a  native  of  this  country  or  of  England  ;  upon 
himself  it  depends  to  do  honor  to  the  country  which  gave 
him  birth.  Nature  has  been  bountiful  to  him.  His  face  and 
figure  are  such  as  to  prepossess  an  audience  in  his  favor  ; 
his  voice  (with  the  single  exception  of  Mr.  Cooper's)  is,  we 
think,  superior  to  any  we  have  ever  heard.  This  young 
gentleman  we  have  followed  with  interest  through  JaJJier^ 
Mark  Antony,  and  the  Indian  Chief  m  Noah's  play,  "  She 
Would  be  a  Soldier."  Mark  Antony  and  the  Indian 
Warrior  evince,  in  addition  to  Mr.  Forrest's  great  natu- 
Hil  gifts,  a  degree  of  study  too  often  neglected  by  young 
actors,  and  to  this  circumstance  do  we  attribute  the  ex- 
treme rarity  of  great  histrionic  talents  combined  with  the 
charms  and  graces  of  youth.  If  this  young  gentleman 
will  listen  to  the  voice  of  truth,  and  avoid  the  destructive 
school  of  vanity  (which  has  ruined  so  many  who  promised 
greatly),  few,  aye,  a  very  few,  years  will  place  him  in  the 
ranks  with  our  own  Cooper,  and  with  these  highly  gifted 
strangers,  Conway,  Booth,  and  Kean,  who  of  late  have 
•  thrown '  a  halo  over  the  American  stage," 

Macready,  in  his  "  Reminiscences,"  writes  :  — 
"...  Forrest  was  the  Mark  Antony.  He  was  a  very 
young  man,  —  not  more,  I  believe,  than  one  or  two  and 
twenty.  The  '  Bowery  lads,'  as  they  are  termed,  made 
great  accounts  of  him,  and  he  certainly  was  possessed  of 
remarkable  qualifications.  His  figure  was  good,  although 
perhaps  a  little  too  heavy ;  his  face  might  be  considered 
handsome,  his  voice  excellent.     He  was  gifted  with  ex- 


HIS  LAST  APPEARANCE.  1 3  I 

traordinary  strength  of  limb,  to  which  he  omitted  no  oppor- 
tunity of  giving  prominence.  He  had  received  only  the 
commonest  education,  but  in  his  reading  of  the  text  he 
showed  the  discernment  and  good  sense  of  an  intellect 
much  upon  a  level  with  that  of  Conway  ;  but  he  had  more 
energy,  and  was  altogether  distinguished  by  powers  that 
might,  under  proper  direction,  be  productive  of  great 
effect.  I  saw  him  again  in  William  Tell.  His  perform- 
ance was  marked  by  vehemence  and  rude  force  that  told 
upon  his  hearers  ;  but  of  pathos  in  the  affecting  interview 
with  his  son  there  was  not  the  slightest  touch,  and  it  was 
evident  he  had  not  rightly  understood  some  passages  of  the 
text.  My  observation  of  him  was  not  hastily  pronounced. 
My  impression  was  that,  possessed  of  natural  requisites 
in  no  ordinary  degree,  he  might,  under  careful  discipline, 
confidently  look  forward  to  eminence  in  his  profession.  If 
he  would  give  himself  up  to  a  severe  study  of  his  art,  and 
improve  himself  by  the  practice  he  would  obtain  before 
the  audiences  of  the  principal  theatres  of  Great  Britain, 
he  might  make  himself  a  first-rate  actor.  But  to  such  a 
course  of  self-denying  training  I  was  certain  he  never 
would  submit,  as  its  necessity  would  not  be  made  appar- 
ent to  him.  The  injudicious  and  ignorant  flattery  and  the 
factious  applause  of  his  supporters  in  low-priced  theatres 
would  fill  his  purse,  would  blind  him  to  his  deficiency  in 
taste  and  judgment,  and  satisfy  his  vanity,  confirming  his 
self-opinion  of  attained  perfection.  I  spoke  of  him  con- 
stantly as  a  young  man  of  unquestionable  promise,  but  I 
doubted  his  submission  to  the  inexorable  conditions  for 
reaching  excellence.  The  event  has  been  as  I  anticipated. 
His  robustious  style  gains  applause  in  the  coarse  melo- 
dramas of  "  Spartacus"  and  "Metamora,"  but  the  traits 
of  character  in  Shakspere  and  the  poetry  of  the  legitimate 
drama  are  beyond  his  grasp.  My  forebodings  were  pro- 
phetic." 


132  EDWIN  FORREST. 

Mr.  George  VandenhofF,  in  his  "Leaves  from  an 
Actor's  Note  Book,"  writing  of  Forrest  in  1842,  says  :  — 

"  I  was  taken  by  one  of  his  great  admirers  to  see  him  as 
Metamora,  and  was  surprised  to  find  the  house  (the  old 
Chatham  Theatre)  more  than  three-fourths  empty.  He, 
however,  acted  with  his  accustomed  vigor  ;  and  I  freely 
acknowledge  that,  for  power  of  destructive  energy,  I 
never  heard  anything  on  the  stage  so  tremendous  in  its 
sustained  crescendo  swell,  and  crushing  force  of  utterance, 
as  his  defiance  of  the  Council  in  that  play.  His  voice 
surged  and  roared  like  the  angry  sea  lashed  into  fury  by  a 
storm,  till,  as  it  reached  its  boiling,  seething  climax,  in 
which  the  serpent  hiss  of  hate  was  heard  at  intervals 
amidst  its  louder,  deeper,  hoarser  tones,  it  was  like  the 
Falls  of  Niagara,  in  its  tremendous  down-sweeping  ca- 
dence :  it  was  a  whirlwind,  a  tornado,  a  cataract  of  inim- 
itable rage." 

In  1848,  Douglas  Jerrold  wrote  of  Forrest's  Lear:  — 

"  A  more  thoughtful,  feeling,  and  artistic  display  of  gen- 
uine acting  we  never  witnessed.  From  the  first  scene  to 
the  last  he  was  the  Lear  of  our  immortal  bard.  Not  a  line, 
look,  or  gesture  told  of  Mr.  Forrest,  but  Lear  was  Lear 
from  the  first  scene  to  the  last.  We  never  saw  madness 
so  perfectly  portrayed.  It  is  true  to  nature  —  painfully  so  ; 
and  to  the  utter  absence  of  mannerism,  affectation,  noisy 
declamation,  and  striving  for  effect,  may,  nay  must,  be  at- 
tributed the  histrionic  triumph  achieved  by  Mr.  Forrest  in 
this  difficult  part.  By  this  display  of  Thursday  evening 
Mr.  Forrest  has  stamped  himself  a  man  of  genius.  We 
candidly  confess  we  did  not  think  it  was  in  him,  and  we 
were  much  electrified,  as  was  every  one  in  the  house.  The 
whole  audience,  in  fact,  was  taken  by  surprise  ;  and  the 
unanimous  cheering  at  the  conclusion  of  each  act  must 


HIS  LAST  APFEARANCE.  1 33 

have  convinced  Mr.  Forrest  how  much  his  performance 
was  appreciated.  He  must  have  been  gratified,  for  the 
expressions  of  delight  which  greeted  him  were  as  heartfelt 
as  they  were  merited.  The  imprecation  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  first  act  was  most  impressively  and  admirably  de- 
livered, and  drew  down  thunders  of  applause  from  one  and 
all.  We  never  heard  this  awful  curse  so  powerfully  uttered. 
It  was  dreadful  from  its  intenseness  and  reality.  Had  we 
space,  we  could  point  out  numberless  excellences  in  Mr. 
Forrest's  performance.  A  more  talented  exhibition  we 
never  wish  to  see;  i^  is  impossible  to  imagine  anything 
more  intellectual.  The  care  and  study  bestowed  upon  this 
part  must  have  been  great,  and  the  actor  has  identified 
himself  most  completely  with  it.  It  is  refreshing  now- 
a-days  to  see  one  of  Shakspere's  plays  so  brought  before 
us,  and  we  feel  exceedingly  obliged  to  Mr.  Forrest  for  hav- 
ing reminded  us  of  the  palmy  days  of  Kemble  and  Kean  ; 
and  when  we  add  that  his  Lear  is  equal  in  every  respect  to 
that  of  the  two  mighty  tragedians,  whose  names  are  hal- 
lowed by  the  admirers  of  genius,  we  think  we  can  scarcely 
bestow  higher  praise." 

Henry  F.  Chorley  wrote  of  him  after  his  first  engage- 
ment in  London : — 

"  However  much  Macready  nerves  one  at  the  time  by 
the  subtle  intellect  of  his  personifications,  I  am  never  much 
the  better  for  it  afterwards,  —  never  find  a  word,  a  look,  or 
an  attitude  written  on  my  heart.  There  are  certain  points  of 
Mr.  Forrest's  playing  that  I  shall  never  forget,  to  my  dying 
day.  There  is  a  force  without  violence  in  his  passionate 
parts,  which  he  owes  much  to  his  physical  conformation  ; 
but  which,  thrown  into  the  body  of  an  infirm  old  king  (his 
Lear  was  very  kingly),  is  most  awful  and  withering ;  as, 
for  instance,  where  he  slides  down  upon  his  knees,  with  — 


134  EDWIN  FORREST. 

'  For,  as  I  am  a  man,  I  think  this  lady 
To  be  my  child,  Cordelia.'  " 

Mr.  Wemyss,  in  his  "Theatrical  Biography"  (1848), 
gives  the  following  opinion  of  Mr.  Forrest's  acting  :  — 

"  Mr.  Forrest's  Shaksperean  characters,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Othello,  where  his  terrific  energy  in  the  third 
and  fourth  acts  holds  his  audience  in  breathless  amaze- 
ment, are  not  above  mediocrity  ;  his  Richard  the  Third 
and  his  Macbeth  do  not  even  deserve  the  name ;  but  in 
these  characters  which  have  been  written  for  him,  in 
which  his  physical  requisites  have  been  brought  into  play 
in  the  most  favorable  manner,  he  maintains  a  reputation 
which  will  be  cherished  so  long  as  the  American  drama, 
of  which  he  may  be  called  the  founder,  shall  exist." 

James  E.  Murdoch,  in  "  The  Stage,"  writes  :  — 
"  The  acting  of  Forrest  was  natural,  impulsive,  and  ar- 
dent, because  he  was  not  so  well  trained  as  his  English 
rivals  in  what  may  be  termed  a  false  refinement.  Forrest 
was  not  considered  as  polished  an  actor  as  Macready, 
and  was  often  charged  with  rudeness  and  violence  in  his 
impersonations,  and  even  ridiculed  for  muscularity  of 
manner ;  and  yet  I  never  knew  a  tragedian  who  did  not 
use  all  his  physical  power  in  reaching  the  climax  of  his 
most  impassioned  dehneations.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  Mr.  Forrest  was  a  strong  man,  and  when  excited  his 
passions  appeared  more  extreme  than  those  of  one  more 
delicately  organized  ;  and  unqualified  condemnation  was 
only  heard  from  those  who  were  either  nnable  or  unwilling 
to  perceive  that  the  traits  which  distinguished  our  then 
young  actor  were  really  more  natural  than  the  elaborate 
presentations  and  precise  mannerisms  of  Macready.  .  .  . 
Although  Forrest  in  his  youth  had  only  received  what 
was  then  called  a  good  school  training,  he  furnished  in 


HIS  LAST  APPEARANCE.  1 35 

his  manhood  an  example  of  what  might  have  been  profit- 
ably imitated  by  the  young  men  of  his  time  who,  with  all 
of  the  advantages  of  collegiate  education,  failed  to  exhibit 
the  progressive  intellectual  improvement  which  steadily 
marked  his  course  from  year  to  year.  Many  who  did  not 
admire  his  earlier  dramatic  performances  were  greatly 
impressed  with  his  manner  in  the  later  parts  of  his  career, 
his  impersonation  of  Lear  being  generally  considered  the 
crowning  jwint  of  his  excellence.  Mr.  Longfellow,  who 
did  not  admire  Mr.  Forrest  as  "Jack  Cade  or  The  Gladiator^ 
speaking  of  his  Lear^  said  it  was  a  "noble  performance,  well 
worthy  the  admiration  of  the  lovers  of  good  acting." 

Mr.  Charles  T.  Congdon,  in  his  "  Reminiscences  of 
a  Journalist "  (1880),  writes  :  — 

"  The  transition  from  this  delicate  triumph  of  the  dra- 
matic art  to  the  gladiatorial  exhibitions  of  Mr.  Edwin  For- 
rest is  like  passing  from  the  musical  meadows  of  Arcadia 
to  the  fields  of  Bashan.  resonant  with  bovine  bellowers. 
As  an  American,  I  am  under  constitutional  obligations  to 
declare  Mr.  Forrest  the  finest  tragic  actor  of  this  or  of  any 
age ;  but  as  a  man  and  a  critic,  I  resolutely  refuse  to  say 
anything  of  the  sort.  '  If  this  be  treason,'  as  Patrick 
Henry  said,  '  make  the  most  of  it ! '  Fanny  Kemble, 
somewhere  about  1832,  during  her  first  theatrical  triumphs 
in  the  United  States,  went  down  to  the  Bowery  Theatre 
to  see  the  young  tragedian  about  whom  there  was  so  much 
talk ;  and  I  think  her  sole  criticism  upon  him  in  her  diary 
is,  '  What  a  mountain  of  a  man  ! '  Well,  he  was  tall  and 
he  was  muscular.  Such  calves  as  his  I  have  seldom  seen. 
It  was  with  admirable  instinct  that  Dr.  Bird  wrote  for  this 
large  person  the  play  of  '  The  Gladiator.'  He  was  born 
for  single  combat.  The  Macduff  \s\i\\  whom  he  contended 
had  a  hard  time  of  it,  nor  did  he  easily  succumb  to  the 


136  EDWIN  FORREST. 

most  valiant  Richmond.  Supernumeraries  did  not  like  to 
be  handled  by  him  when  the  business  required  pulling 
about  and  mauling.  The  Messetiger  in  '  Damon  and 
Pythias'  always  played  the  part  at  the  risk  of  his  bones 
when  Mr.  Forrest  delineated  the  patriotic  Syracusian. 
Of  course,  all  this  mastodonian  muscularity  was  a  disad- 
vantage in  characters  of  predominating  intellect,  like 
Hamlei,  with  which  our  actor  never  meddled  without 
reminding  us  of  a  bull  in  a  china-shop.  The  merits  of 
Mr.  Forrest  were  those  which  might  be  acquired  by  long 
experience  of  the  stage,  and  by  many  opportunities  of 
practising  at  the  expense  of  the  public.  Sometimes,  when 
he  had  only  to  manage  a  few  lengths  of  stately  declama- 
tion, he  succeeded  in  making  an  impression  upon  the 
judicious.  With  such  a  frame,  and  a  good  costume,  it 
would  have  been  strange  if  he  had  altogether  missed  dig- 
nity ;  but  he  was  not  over-burthened  with  intellectual 
perceptions,  and,  generally  speaking,  whatever  he  played 
he  was  the  same  man.  One  remembers  him,  not  as 
Macbeth,  nor  even  as  Spartacus  or  Metamora,  but  as  the 
Great  American  Tragedian.  Actors  are  not  usually  good 
judges  of  dramas  ;  but  it  would  be  impossible  for  a  player 
of  the  least  literary  instinct  to  go  on  acting  year  after  year 
in  such  a  farrago  of  bombast  and  bad  rhetoric  as  poor 
John  Augustus  Stone's  aboriginal  drama  of  '  Metamora.' 
Mr.  Stone,  did  what  he  could  to  atone  for  the  injury  which 
he  had  inflicted  upon  the  world  by  the  production  of  this 
play  and  another,  equally  bad,  which  he  wrote  for  Yankee 
Hill.  He  drowned  himself  on  June  i,  1834,  in  the  Schuyl- 
kill River.  We  will  accept  the  presumptive  apology. 
Mr.  Forrest  went  on  playing  those  parts  specially  written 
for  his  private  legs  and  larynx,  to  the  end.  One  does  not 
understand  why  he  did  not  lay  them  aside  after  the  full 
development  of  his  Shaksperean  aspirations.  I  think 
tliat  he  had  dim  notions  of  the  faults  of  his  acting,  and 


H/S  LAST  APPEARANCE.  1 37 

that  he  tried  a  little  to  be  less  outrageous;  but  he  was 
rather  worse  when  he  attempted  to  be  quiet  than  when  he 
o'erdid  Termagant  and  out-Heroded  Herod.  Any  at- 
tempt to  utter  anytiiing  soiio  voce  instantly  suggested 
suffocation.  Nor  could  Mr.  Forrest  move  his  ponderous 
limbs  with  ease,  except  in  garments  of  the  loosest  descrip- 
tion ;  in  a  part  like  Claude  Melnotte,  demanding  modern 
apparel,  he  was  like  the  Farnese  Hercules  in  a  dress- 
coat.  He  had  some  original  business,  but  it  was  not  good  ; 
even  if  it  had  been  better,  he  would  have  spoiled  it  by 
over-consciousness  and  by  thrusting  it  upon  the  attention 
of  the  house." 

Hon.  Wm.  B.  Maclay,  of  New  York,  afler  Forrest's 
death,  wrote :  — 

"  Some  friends  of  Mr.  Forrest  wishing  to  have  a  mar- 
ble statue  of  him  in  one  of  his  characters,  and  long  divided 
in  opinion  which  one  to  select,  ultimately  decided  upon 
Coriolanus,  in  accordance  with  the  actor's  own  preference. 
It  was  indeed  a  character  worthy  of  being  classed  with 
his  Lear,  Damon,  and  Richelieu.  I  first  saw  him  in  the 
part  at  the  old  Park,  in  1837.  He  was  never  a  favorite 
at  that  theatre,  and  only  three  years  before  he  had  played 
an  engagement  there  to  very  poor  houses,  as  the  receipts 
of  the  treasury,  that  unerring  barometer,  show.  For 
"Hamlet,"  $362.75;  "King  Lear,"  $205;  "Othello," 
$385  ;  while  the  engagement  of  Fanny  Kemble,  immedi- 
ately following,  was  a  remarkable  contrast.  Her  Lady 
Macbeth  drew  to  the  treasury  ;p  1,1 29. 50;  Bianca,  $765; 
and  "  The  Hunchback,"  $1,526.50.  After  an  interval  oT 
many  years  Forrest  appeared  as  Coriolanus  at  the  Broad- 
way Theatre,  in  one  of  the  longest  and  most  successful 
of  his  engagements  in  New  York.  Any  careful  observer 
who  had  had  the  advantage  of  seeing  him  on  both  the 


138  EDWIN  FORREST. 

occasions  when  he  played  the  part  must  have  been  im- 
pressed with  the  more  perfect  conception  of  the  poet 
which  additional  study  and  experience  of  the  stage  ena- 
bled him  to  present.  Sir  Walter  Scott  deemed  it  fortu- 
nate that  Kemble  had  never  seen  Garrick  in  Hamlet.  It 
was  no  disadvantage  to  Forrest  that  he  had  never  seen 
any  of  his  predecessors,  good  or  bad,  in  the  cliaracter  of 
Coriolanus.  We  were  spared  a  copy,  a  substitute,  an 
imitation.  Instead  of  following  the  line  of  precedents,  he 
had  surrendered  himself  to  reflection  and  study  as  guides 
to  a  mastery  of  the  character.  Throughout  the  whole 
performance  there  was  a  freshness,  a  vigor,  an  individu- 
ality which  distinguished  it  from  any  other,  and  which  af- 
forded a  remarkable  illustration  of  the  scope  for  differing, 
yet  original  conceptions  that  have  given  to  the  drama  such 
deserved  pre-eminence  among  the  imitative  arts.  So  ad- 
mirable was  this  delineation,  that  the  spectator  lost  sight 
of  the  actor.  He  saw  Forrest,  but  thought  only  of  Corio- 
lanus. He  was  transported  to  the  heart-stirring  siege  of 
Corioli,  stood  in  the  market-place  in  Rome,  mingled  in 
the  procession  to  the  Capitol,  and  felt  appalled  when  he 
beheld  the  illustrious  exile  standing  in  majestic  silence 
before  the  statue  of  Mars.  .  ,  .  But  the  crowning  triumph 
of  Forrest  was  in  the  closing  scene  of  Act  III.,  when  the 
banishment  of  Coriolanus  is  announced  by  Brutus.,  amid 
the  huzzas  of  the  populace.  The  stage  of  the  Broadway 
Theatre  had  even  more  than  the  usual  gradual  elevation 
as  it  receded  from  the  footlights.  In  the  position  where 
Forrest  stood  he  seemed  to  have  acquired  additional 
height,  as  with  flashing  eyes  and  dilated  form  he  rushed 
towards  the  retreating  rabble,  and  thundered  out  his  con- 
centrated scorn  in  the  exclamation,  '  I  banish  you  /^  He 
repeated  the  line,  'There  is  a  world  elsewhere,'  with  the 
stress  laid  upon  the  word  we  have  italicized.  "The  idea  of 
the  poet  could  perhaps  have  been  more  truly  rendered  by 


HIS  LAST  APPEARANCE.  1 39 

the  delivery  of  the  passage  in  a  self-reliant  monotone,  or 
with  the  emphasis,  if  any,  upon  the  word  elsewhere j  but 
this  was  only  like  a  spot  upon  the  sun.  His  reading  in 
all  else  evinced  a  careful,  and  in  many  instances  a  subtle, 
analysis  of  the  text ;  and  his  good  taste  led  him  to  restore 
the  beautiful  passage,  — 

'  My  mother,  oh. 
You  have  won  a  happy  victory  to  Rome  ; 
But  for  your  son,  believe  it,  I  believe  it. 
Most  dangerously  with  him  you  have  prevailed.' 

Its  simple  pathos  did  not  save  it  in  Kemble's  adaptations, 
nor  is  it  in  any  other  copy  of  the  acted  play  with  which 
we  are  acquainted." 


I40  EDWIN  FORREST. 


CHAPTER    XII. 


LAST    SCENE    OF    ALL. 


ON  the  evening  of  April  2,  1872,  at  the  Globe 
Theatre,  Boston,  Edwin  Forrest  closed  his 
dramatic  career.  The  last  words  of  Richelieu,  as  the 
drop-curtain  fell,  "  So  ends  it,"  seemed  to  be  the  fitting 
farewell  of  the  grand  old  Cardinal's  noblest  representa- 
tive. Shut  out  from  the  view  of  the  pubhc  he  had 
served  so  faithfully  for  fifty  years,  he  passed  into  the 
sick-room,  and  found  comfort  in  the  tender  nursing  of 
his  personal  friends.  A  few  days  of  care  and  rest  did 
much  to  restore  to  his  frame  the  health  and  vigor  which 
never  before  had  failed  him,  and  enabled  him  disdain- 
fully to  shake  off  the  disease.  As  soon  as  he  was  able 
to  move,  he  left  for  his  home  in  Philadelphia,  resting  on 
his  way  only  a  day  in  New  York.  In  the  quiet  of  his 
study  and  in  the  society  of  a  few  congenial  men  he 
spent  the  summer  months,  gaining  new  strength  every 
day,  and  hoping  for  firesh  triumphs  before  the  close  of 
his  life.  He  could  not,  in  the  face  of  his  infirmity  of 
gait,  however,  venture  to  play  any  of  his  heroic  charac- 
ters, and  his  friends  saw  Httle  to  encourage  them  in  the 
hope  that  he  would  ever  be  able  to  resume  his  profes- 
sion.    But  the  spirit  of  the  old  warrior  was  in  him  still, 


LAST  SCENE  OF  ALL.  141 

and  not  even  the  warnings  of  his  last  attack  were  suffi- 
cient to  keep  him  in  his  well-earned  retirement.  As  the 
summer  passed  away,  the  desire  for  work  and  action 
grew  stronger  and  stronger,  and  he  decided  to  re-enter 
public  life,  but  simply  as  a  reader  of  the  great  plays  in 
which  he  had,  as  an  actor,  been  so  successful.  His 
voice  was  still  the  old  powerful  instrument  of  his  will, 
which  he  could  command  to  instant  obedience ;  while 
the  clear  intellect  could  still  guide  its  matchless  tones 
in  subtle  and  entrancing  harmonies.  In  his  imagina- 
tion he  saw  grouped  before  him  a  new  generation  of 
scholars,  hanging  upon  his  words,  while  the  veterans 
who  had  held  to  him  through  good  and  evil  report, 
against  the  allurements  of  change  and  the  claims  of 
younger  rivals,  would  swell  the  throng.  He  had  still  a 
hvely  interest  in  all  dramatic  matters,  and  a  strong 
belief  in  the  bright  future  of  the  American  stage,  al- 
though he  saw  his  own  usefulness  near  its  end. 

His  first  reading  was  given  at  the  Academy  of  Music 
in  Philadelphia.  The  large  theatre  was  only  half  filled. 
His  selection  was  "  Hamlet."  The  result  was  a  disap- 
pointment to  his  listeners ;  and  that  it  was  so,  he  fully 
realized.  He  felt  that  his  power  to  charm  an  audience 
had  gone  from  him.  While  his  grand  voice  was  un- 
changed, the  other  qualities  of  his  popularity  had  van- 
ished. He  had  left  them  on  the  sick-bed  from  which 
he  had  so  lately  risen,  and  they  were  never  to  return. 
His  engagements  took  him  to  Wilmington,  Delaware, 
and  later  to  New  York.  In  Steinway  Hall,  in  the  city 
that  had  been  the  scene  of  his  greatest  successes  in  times 
past,  his  audiences  were  pitifully  small,  although  not 


142  EDWIN  FORREST. 

unappreciative.  He  went  to  Boston,  and  there  at  Tre- 
mont  Temple,  on  the  7th  of  December,  1872,  he  made 
his  last  appeal  to  the  public  in  the  capacity  of  a  reader, 
or  in  any  capacity,  closing  his  book  upon  Othello's 
death,  Othello's  occupation  forever  gone.  He  felt 
keenly  the  realization  of  the  fact  that  even  the  dim 
glories  of  the  reader's  desk  were  denied  to  him  in  his 
old  age  and  failing  strength ;  and  mournfully  he  turned 
his  face  once  more  towards  his  home.  The  hand  of 
his  friend  Oakes  was  the  last  he  pressed,  and  sadly 
•prophetic  were  his  farewell  words,  "  Another  parting,  my 
friend.  The  final  parting  must  come  some  time.  I  will 
probably  be  the  first  to  die."  They  never  met  in  life 
again.  Forrest  reached  Philadelphia  on  the  9th  of 
December,  and  on  the  nth  wrote  to  Oakes  his  last 
letter,  saying  sadly  but  fondly,  "  God  bless  you  ever, 
my  dear  and  much  valued  friend." 

On  this  evening  he  had  gone  to  rest  seemingly  in  his 
accustomed  health,  showing  no  signs  of  unusual  weak- 
ness, and  in  no  way  attracting  particularly  the  attention 
of  his  household.  When  the  morning  of  the  12  th  of 
December  came,  his  servant,  hearing  no  sound  in  his 
chamber  at  his  general  hour  of  rising,  became  alarmed, 
opened  his  master's  door,  and  found  there,  cold  in  death 
upon  his  bed,  the  form  of  the  great  tragedian.  He  was 
partially  dressed,  and  evidently  had  taken  his  customary 
exercise  with  a  pair  of  small  dumb-bells.  His  arms 
were  crossed  upon  his  bosom^and  he  seemed  to  be  at 
rest.  The  stroke  had  come  suddenly.  With  little  warn- 
ing, and  without  pain,  he  had  passed  away.  Concern- 
ing the  immediate  cause  of  his  death  a  Philadelphia 


LAST  SCENE  OF  ALL.  1 43 

correspondent  of  the  New  York  Herald  wrote  as  fol- 
lows to  that  journal :  — 

"  Dr.  Gross,  a  surgeon  of  note  in  this  city,  in  his  cer- 
tificate of  death,  says,  '  Cause,  apparently  apoplexy  of' 
the  brain.'  From  what  I  learn  from  the  servants,  1  incline 
to  the  belief  that  Mr.  Forrest  burst  a  blood-vessel.  It 
was  a  very  favorite  habit  of  his  to  dress  himself  in  the 
morning,  with  the  exception  of  his  coat,  and  stretching 
himself  on  his  back  in  bed,  in  front  of  a  movable  mirror, 
exercise  with  a  pair  of  eight-pound  dumb-bells.  When 
found  yesterday  the  dumb-bells  were  lying  at  his  side. 
The  cook  says,  *  A  red  streak  appeared  at  the  side  of  his 
neck  just  before  he  died.'  It  would  appear  from  this  that 
he  had  been  taking  his  accustomed  exercise,  and  possibly 
with  more  violence  than  usual,  and  had  burst  a  blood- 
vessel when  attempting  to  rise  from  a  reclining  position." 

His  few  intimates  in  Philadelphia  were  immediately 
summoned,  among  them  the  faithful  Rees,  the  constant 
Dougherty,  and  they  at  once  sent  by  telegraph  for 
Oakes,  to  whom  the  news  of  his  friend's  death  was  a 
dreadful  shock,  —  a  thunderbolt  from  a  clear  sky.  That 
Edwin  Forrest  was  dead  was  quickly  known  throughout 
the  city ;  the  fact  was  whispered  in  hotel  corridors,  it 
was  mooted  on  'change,  it  was  the  common  topic  of 
the  streets ;  and  that  an  event  of  unusual  importance 
had  taken  place  was  read  in  men's  faces,  was  felt  in 
men's  talk.  The  electric  wire  flashed  the  news  to  the 
remotest  ends  of  the  country ;  and  wherever  the  drama 
had  a  lover,  wherever  the  reader  of  Shakspere  was 
found,  the  loss  of  the  master's  greatest  exponent  was 
sincerely  mourned.    Stricken  down  in  the  prime  of  his 


144  EDWIN  FORREST. 

manhood,  taken  away  without  a  moment's  warning,  the 
news  was  scarcely  credited.  No  description  of  the  last 
scene  of  all  can  be  better  than  that  of  his  friend  and 
biographer,  Mr.  Alger,  who  thus  writes  :  — 

"Arrangements  were  made  for  a  simple  and  unosten- 
tatious funeral,  a  modest  card  of  invitation  being  sent  to 
only  about  sixty  of  his  nearest  friends  or  associates  in 
private  or  professional  life.  But  it  was  found  necessary 
to  forego  the  design  of  a  quiet  and  reserved  burial,  on  ac- 
count of  the  multitudes  who  felt  so  deep  an  interest  in  the 
occasion,  and  expressed  so  strong  a  desire  to  be  present 
at  the  last  services,  that  they  could  not  be  refused  admis- 
sion. When  the  hour  arrived,  on  that  dark  and  rainy 
December  day,  the  heavens  muffled  in  black,  and  weeping 
as  if  they  felt  with  the  human  gloom  below,  the  streets  were 
blocked  with  the  crowd,  all  anxious  to  see  once  more,  ere  it 
was  borne  forever  from  sight,  the  memorable  form  and  foce. 
The  doors  were  thrown  open  to  them,  and  it  was  estimated 
that  nearly  two  thousand  people,  in  steady  stream,  flowed 
in  and  out :  each  one  in  turn  taking  his  final  gaze.  The 
house  was  draped  in  mourning,  and  profusely  filled  with 
flowers.  In  a  casket  covered  with  a  black  cloth,  silver- 
mounted,  and  with  six  silver  handles,  clothed  in  a  black 
dress-suit,  reposed  the  dead  actor.  Every  trace  of  passion 
and  of  pain  was  gone  from  the  firm  and  fair  countenance, 
looking  strikingly  like  life,  whose  placid  repose  nothing 
could  ever  disturb  again.  All  over  the  body  and  the  casket, 
and  around  it,  were  heaped  floral  tributes  in  every  form, 
sent  from  far  and  near,  —  crosses,  wreaths,  crowns,  and 
careless  clusters.  From  four  actresses  in  four  different 
cities  came  a  cross  of  red  and  white  roses,  a  basket  of  ever- 
greens, a  wreath  of  japonicas,  and  a  crown  of  white  ca- 
mellias.    Dele-iations  from  various  dramatic  associations 


LAST  SCENE  OF  ALL.  *■  1 45 

were  present ;  a  large  deputation  of  the  Lotus  Club  came 
from  New  York,  with  the  mayor  of  that  city  at  their  head. 
All  classes  were  there,  from  the  most  distinguished  to  the 
most  humble.  Many  of  the  old  steadfast  friends  of  other 
days  passed  the  coffin,  and  looked  their  last  upon  its  occu- 
pant with  dripping  eyes.  One,  a  life-long  professional 
coadjutor,  stooped  and  kissed  the  clay-cold  brow.  Several 
poor  men  and  women  who  had  been  blessed  by  his  silent 
charities  touched  every  heart  by  the  deep  grief  they 
showed.  And  the  household  servants  wept  aloud  at  part- 
ing from  the  old  master,  who  had  made  himself  earnestly 
loved  by  them. 

"The  only  inscription  on  the  coffin-lid  was  the  words, — 

EDWIN     FORREST, 
Born  March  9,  1806.    Died  December  12,  1872. 

"The  pall-bearers  were  James  Oakes,  James  Lawson, 
Daniel  Dougherty,  John  W.  Forney,  Jesse  R.  Burden, 
Samuel  D.  Goss,  George  W.  Childs,  and  James  Page. 
The  funeral  cortige,  consisting  of  some  sixty  carriages, 
moved  through  throngs  of  people  lining  the  sidewalk, 
along  the  way  to  St.  Paul's  Church,  where  the  crowd  was 
so  great,  notwithstanding  the  rain,  as  to  cause  some  delay. 
It  seemed  as  though  the  very  reserve  and  retiracy  of  the 
man  in  his  last  years  had  increased  the  latent  popular 
curiosity  about  him,  investing  him  with  a  kind  of  mystery. 
A  simple  prayer  was  read;  and  then,  in  the  family  vault, 
with  the  coffined  and  mouldering  forms  of  his  father  and 
mother,  brother  and  sisters,  loving  hands  placed  all  that 
was  mortal  of  the  greatest  tragedian  that  ever  lived  in 
America." 

Nothing  need  be  added  to  this.  The  dead  man's 
will  was  found  to  contain  several  bequests  to  old  friends 


146  •       EDWIN  FORREST. 

and  servants,  and  an  elaborate  scheme  by  which  his 
fortune,  in  the  hands  of  trustees,  was  to  be  applied  to 
the  erection  and  support  of  a  retreat  for  aged  actors, 
to  be  called  "  The  Edwin  Forrest  Home."  The  idea 
had  been  long  in  his  mind,  and  careful  directions  were 
drawn  up  for  its  practical  working ;  but  the  trustees 
found  themselves  powerless  to  realize  fully  the  hopes 
and  wishes  of  the  testator.  A  settlement  had  to  be 
made  with  the  divorced  wife,  who  acted  liberally  to- 
wards the  estate ;  but  the  amount  withdrawn  seriously 
crippled  it,  as  it  was  deprived  at  once  of  a  large  sum  of 
ready  money.  An  informality  in  the  drawing  of  the 
will  involved  the  trustees  in  trouble,  under  the  laws  of 
the  State  of  New  York,  in  which  much  of  the  property 
lay ;  large  fees  to  lawyers  still  further  hampered  them  ; 
and  their  income  at  present  is  insufficient,  without  aid, 
to  further  the  testator's  purpose,  while  a  claimant 
has  arisen  to  demand  possession  of  the  estate  on  the 
ground  of  propinquity  of  blood. 

Thus  the  great  ambition  of  the  tragedian  to  be  a 
benefactor  to  his  profession  was  destined  to  come  al- 
most to  naught.  No  sooner  had  the  giant  frame  been 
laid  in  the  grave  than  it  was  shown  to  the  world  how 
utterly  vain  and  useless  had  been  his  accumulation  of 
wealth  for  the  laudable  purposes  for  which  he  had  de- 
signed it.  Of  this  happily  little  he  recks  now.  He  has 
parted  with  all  the  cares  of  life,  and  has  at  last  found 
rest.  Half  a  century  before,  in  that  very  city  where  his 
ashes  now  repose,  he  had  breasted  the  world  with  his 
mighty  frame,  his  still  mightier  purpose  ;  but  the  weary 
years  had  gradually  worn  away  the  one,  failure  and  bit- 


LAST  SCENE  OF  ALL.  1 47 

ter  experience  had  done  their  work  with  the  other; 
and  as  his  friends  stood  about  the  open  grave  on  that 
dismal  winter's  day,  they  looked  down  upon  the  mortal 
part  of  one  who  was  not  only  the  last  of  his  race  and 
his  name,  but  who  had  left  nothing  of  import  behind 
him  but  his  glorious  reputation,  as  the  first  and  the 
greatest  of  American  Tragedians. 


148  EDWIN  FORREST. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


EPILOGUE. 


POSTERITY  deals  summarily  with  the  fame  of  the 
actor.  He  must  reap  his  reward  while  living,  and 
solace  himself  with  the  present  applause  which  his  au- 
diences grant ;  for  to  him  posthumous  glory  is  denied. 
He  leaves  nothing  but  the  memory  of  his  work  behind 
him.  The  breath  of  his  fame  evaporates  in  the  shouts 
which  make  the  rafters  ring,  living  a  moment,  and  dying 
into  absolute  silence.  In  all  the  sister  arts  the  wealth  of 
a  dead  master's  genius  is  proven  in  the  living  effigies  by 
which  men  may  measure  his  real  worth  after  the  creat- 
ing hand  is  cold  in  death.  Futurity,  however,  often 
rectifies  the  injustice  of  contemporary  critics ;  the  elo- 
quent canvas,  the  speaking  marble,  obtaining  the  hom- 
age refused  the  living  artist.  Michael  Angelo  on  one 
occasion,  to  gratify  the  caprice  of  his  royal  master, 
carved  an  image  of  snow,  on  which,  perhaps,  he  ex- 
pended as  much  thought  as  upon  his  immortal  "  Moses  " 
or  the  imperishable  Dome  of  St.  Peter's,  and  which  in 
the  eyes  of  the  men  of  his  time  was  perhaps  to  live  as 
long  as  either.  Harassed  by  his  fellows  in  art,  perse- 
cuted by  the  malice  of  his  enemies,  with  few  smiles  to 
lighten  his  burden,  few  hands  to  encourage  him,  no 


1 


EPILOGUE.  149 

filial  devotion  to  sustain  him,  this  grandest  hero  of  the 
Middle  Ages  heard  little  more  than  the  echo  of  the 
fame  which  was  to  surround  his  memory  in  later  years. 
Klopstock,  feeling  too  keenly  the  neglect  of  his  own 
time,  dedicated  his  "  Messiah "  to  posterity.  Beet- 
hoven, whose  heavenly  harmonies  were  drawn  from  a 
soul  harrowed  by  the  ingratitude  of  the  world  about 
him,  felt  that  his  compositions  fell  upon  ears  almost  as 
deaf  as  his  own ;  and  died  in  poverty,  with  no  consola- 
tion but  the  faith  that  whole  nations  yet  unborn  would 
chant  his  praises  in  his  own  immortal  music.  The  liv- 
ing estimation  denied  to  the  poet  Keats  has  been  more 
than  rebuked  by  the  influence  his  works  are  now  ac- 
knowledged to  have  had  upon  the  poets  of  the  Victo- 
rian age,  when  his  "  Endymion  "  is  crowned  with  the 
laurel  refused  to  him.  But  while  the  ingratitude  of 
contemporaries  has  embittered  the  lives  of  poets, 
painters,  sculptors,  composers,  and  authors,  the  theatre 
has  been  ringing  with  the  applause  granted  to  some 
gifted  actor  whose  very  name  now  is  but  a  dim 
and  shadoNvy  memory.  His  fellow-artists  live  in  their 
works ;  by  their  works,  as  enduring  as  marble,  are 
they  known :  the  actor's  work  dies  with  him ;  his 
image  is  carved  in  snow. 

^schines  was  not  only  a  great  statesman,  but  a  great 
actor.  When  sent  by  his  countrymen  to  Philippi,  he 
was  compelled  to  obtain  leave  from  the  theatres  in 
Asia  Minor,  and  was  reluctantly  spared  to  the  state. 
The  matchless  art  which  guided  him  in  the  perform- 
ance of  the  heroic  characters  created  by  vEschylus  and 
Sophocles  is  now  a  matter  of  tradition  only ;  but  the 


150  EDWIN  FORREST. 

reply  to  Demosthenes,  the  records  of  his  public  acts, 
live  in  the  state  papers  of  his  time.  In  all  Italy  no 
bust  of  Roscius  can  be  found,  no  transcript  of  those 
features  upon  which  in  the  days  of  his  glory  the  Ro- 
mans looked  with  so  much  pride  and  pleasure.  The 
passing  breath  of  pubhc  adulation,  the  shout  of  the 
populace,  the  regard  of  a  corrupt  court,  were  the  only 
rewards  of  the  most  gifted  actor  of  the  Roman  world 
in  the  days  of  Cicero  and  of  Caesar.  The  art  museums 
are  crowded  with  the  efifigies  of  soldiers  and  of  states- 
men, but  no  sculptured  marble  preserves  to  us  the  form 
of  the  greatest  of  Roman  tragedians.  In  the  hollow  tri- 
umphs of  a  Roman  holiday  with  the  gladiator  and  the 
chariot-rider,  the  dancer  and  the  mime,  he  heard  the 
only  praises  he  was  ever  to  receive ;  and  he  has  passed 
into  history  with  no  enduring  evidences  of  his  powers 
by  which  he  may  be  estimated  by  posterity. 

Of  Richard  Burbage  how  little  is  known.  Aided  by 
the  destroying  fury  of  Puritanism,  the  march  of  Time 
has  obliterated  even  the  simplest  record  of  a  life  passed 
in  the  formation  of  our  English  drama.  Standing  side 
by  side  with  Shakspere,  his  friend  and  manager,  he 
shares  with  him  the  injustice  which  posterity  has  done 
his  fame  as  an  actor,  and  is  denied,  of  course,  the  glory 
•given  to  the  poet  and  the  dramatist.  No  pen  can 
show  us  the  man  as  he  did  his  life's  work  in  that  now 
historic  theatre,  no  hand  trace  for  us  the  creator  of 
Hainlet  and  Othello,  the  glorious  forerunner  of  Bet- 
terton,  Garrick,  and  Kean.  The  oblivion  into  which 
the  fame  of  England's  first  great  player  has  sunk  still 
shrouds  the  personal  history  of  her  greatest  poet.    To- 


EPILOGUE.  1 5  I 

gather,  in  the  region  of  mere  conjecture,  wander  the 
images  of  Shakspere  and  Burbage,  —  the  one  living 
now  only  in  his  glorious  writings,  while  to  the  other  is 
denied  a  habitation,  almost  a  name. 

While  posterity,  however,  is  shown  to  be  indifferent 
to  the  professional  merits  of  the  actor,  it  regards  with 
peculiar  and  lasting  interest  all  details  of  his  non-pro- 
fessional life.  Volumes  have  been  written,  and  are  still 
eagerly  read,  relating  to  the  personal  career  of  old 
stage  favorites,  whose  services  and  performances  on  the 
boards  can  now  be  judged  by  no  valid  comparison.  In 
all  generations  the  memoirs  of  the  player  who  has  hon- 
ored his  calling  have  been  among  the  most  cherished  of 
biographical  books.  From  Garrick  the  actor  we  turn 
fondly  to  Garrick  the  man  and  the  citizen ;  and,  while 
we  can  fix  in  our  minds  no  proper  idea  of  his  genius 
behind  the  footlights,  we  can  justly  admire  him  as  a 
scholar,  a  poet,  and  a  gentleman,  adorning  the  age  in 
which  he  lived,  and  held  in  the  most  affectionate  re- 
membrance by  his  contemporaries,  who  have  recorded 
his  wo^th.  We  can  find  in  our  fancy  no  place  for  Bet- 
terton  the  actor ;  but  the  friend  of  Pope,  the  pure  and 
cultured  student  who  assisted  him  by  his  example  in 
raising  the  depraved  stage  of  the  Restoration  into  the 
region  where  even  a  Jeremy  Collier  could  respect  it, 
the  citizen  who  added  grace  to  his  profession  by  his 
unblemished  reputation,  for  him  we  must  have  a  grate- 
ful and  enduring  memory.  To  the  Kembles  and  the 
younger  Kean  we  turn  with  respect,  as  to  men  who 
filled  their  high  places  with  credit,  and  who  left  their  call- 
ing nobler  than  they  found  it.     Even  those  who  denied 


152  EDWIN  FORREST. 

the  genius  of  Macready  honored  the  man  who  called 
Dickens,  Forster,  Buhver,  Talfourd,  Tennyson,  and 
Rogers,  friend  ;  and  his  last  years  at  Cheltenham,  with 
their  peace  and  rest,  were  the  fitting  close  of  a  life  per- 
sonally well  spent  in  the  strict  observance  of  duty  done 
"  ever  in  the  great  Task-master's  eye." 

No  man  knew  better  the  history  of  the  drama  than 
Edwin  Forrest.  No  actor  tasted  so  early  the  sweets 
of  popular  renown,  no  man  so  rapidly  sprang  into 
popular  favor,  and  no  one  in  modem  times  so  long  held 
his  high  rank  in  his  profession  undisturbed.  He  almost 
discounted  all  claims  upon  posterity  in  the  munificent 
rewards  of  his  contemporaries.  Blessed  as  man  has  sel- 
dom been  with  fine  personal  qualities  for  a  calling  de- 
manding so  much  in  the  way  of  physical  attractions, 
with  a  matchless  voice,  an  industrious  nature,  and  an 
ambitious  spirit,  he  seemed  bom  to  regenerate  the 
stage.  He  had  only  to  supplement  his  gifts  with  the 
refined  study  and  culture  which  embellish  and  crown 
such  royal  possessions,  to  have  realized  all  that  the 
most  ambitious  could  wish.  No  life  is  so  illustrative  of 
the  necessity  of  character  in  the  working  out  of  great 
fame,  in  the  proper  utilizing  of  great  gifts,  as  his.  Had 
his  patience  and  humility  been  equal  to  his  other  quali- 
ties, we  should  have  found  united  in  him  the  private 
life  of  a  Betterton  with  his  own  undeniable  genius.  No 
man  knew  the  right  way  better  than  he  ;  no  man,  when 
his  imperious  will  was  opposed,  more  often  stubbornly- 
chose  the  wrong.  At  the  very  moment  when  his 
reputation  seemed  the  most  assured,  it  received  its 
death-blow,  and  at  his  own  hands.     If  his  headstrong 


EPILOGUE.  153 

obstinacy  had  but  yielded  to  the  importunity  of  his 
real  friends  and  his  own  better  judgment  at  the  most 
momentous  periods  of  his  life,  had  he  studied  the  effect 
of  his  conduct  upon  the  then  struggling  American 
drama,  had  he  shown  less  care  for  his  pride  and  more 
for  his  art,  there  would  have  been  no  divorce  trial,  no 
riot  in  Astor  Place.  The  one  would  have  been  qui- 
etly settled  without  public  scandal,  the  other  prevented 
by  the  power  which  he  could  have  exercised  over  his  in- 
judicious admirers.  The  first  gave  to  his  private  life  a 
notoriety  which  will  ever  be  remembered  to  his  dis- 
credit ;  the  last  identified  him  in  his  professional  life 
with  the  passions  of  a  mob,  and  served  to  increase  the 
prejudice  already  felt  in  refined  society  against  his  too 
emphatic  democracy.  The  high  place  to  which  For- 
rest's genius  had  raised  him  demanded  some  sacrifice 
on  his  part  of  his  personal  feeling ;  and  in  his  lamen- 
table hastiness  he  outraged  good  taste  and  public  opin- 
ion, and  sullied  his  own  good  name. 

These  two  unhappy  events  force  themselves  into 
prominence  whenever  his  name  is  recalled.  They  cost 
him  many  friends,  and  sowed  the  seeds  of  suspicion 
and  distrust  in  a  nature  generous  in  the  extreme  in 
many  respects,  although  harsh  and  unforgiving.  During 
the  later  years  of  his  life  he  lived  in  a  very  narrow  so- 
cial circle,  surrounded  by  a  few  tried  companions,  but 
their  diminished  numbers  too  often  gave  a  pang  of  sor- 
row to  an  already  wounded  heart.  His  nobler  quali- 
ties were  not  so  well  known  as  they  should  have  been. 
He  showed  a  strong  interest  in  all  young  actors  who 
labored  studiously  for  advancement  in  their  profession. 


154  EDWIN  FORREST. 

His  demeanor  was  frequently  dictatorial  and  rude,  but 
only  where  his  prejudices  were  involved.  He  treated 
with  good  feeling  and  justice  his  fellow-players,  save 
when  his  personal  dislikes  were  particularly  strong,  and 
then  he  condemned  without  reason.  He  spoke  often 
of  the  really  great  actor  as  comparable  only  with  the 
loftiest  of  mankind,  thinking,  perhaps,  at  the  time,  of 
the  greatness  he  himself  had  achieved,  and  of  which  he 
was  naturally  proud.  His  opinion  of  his  own  perform- 
ances was  high,  and  he  placed  himself  on  a  parallel 
with  the  most  prominent  men  in  all  walks  of  life.  On 
one  occasion,  discoursing  of  certain  severe  newspaper 
criticisms  upon  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Lincoln  at  some  im- 
portant crisis  of  his  career,  he  indignantly  denounced 
the  freedom  with  which  great  reputations  were  some- 
times assailed  by  the  press,  and  added  that  this  particu- 
lar attack  was  only  equalled  by  the  audacity  with  which 
journalistic  striplings  had  condemned  his  own  perform- 
ances. It  could  have  no  more  effect  upon  Abraham 
Lincoln,  he  declared,  than  similar  criticism  could  affect 
Edwin  Forrest ;  for  he  must  regard  the  journalist  who 
could,  for  instance,  find  fault  with  his  third  act  of 
"  Othello  "  as  a  man  fit  only  for  the  lunatic  asylum, 
or  an  ignominious  expulsion  down  his  own  back- 
stairs. 

Forrest  was  a  great  lover  of  books.  All  his  life  he  had 
been  an  extensive  reader,  and  he  often  asserted  that  the 
successful  actor  could  not  help  acquiring  a  liberal  edu- 
cation in  the  course  of  his  work.  He  was  an  excellent 
illustration  of  his  own  theory  in  this  respect,  for  he 
gained  all  he  ever  had  in  the  way  of  knowledge  after  he 


EPILOGUE.  155 

entered  the  theatre.  For  Nature  in  all  her  moods  he  had 
a  profound  love  and  reverence,  but  none  for  dogma  or 
the  authority  of  the  church.  He  loved  his  friends.  He 
hated  his  enemies.  A  he  to  him  was  the  most  unpar- 
donable of  offences.  He  had  strong  passions,  and  tliey 
often  became  his  master.  In  frame  he  was  a  giant,  and 
he  had  many  of  the  weaknesses  of  character  that  so 
often  attend  magnificent  physical  gifts. 

Forrest  lived  to  see  the  reign  of  melodrama  and  of 
sensationalism.  The  hero  of  the  old  classical  arena  stood 
face  to  face  with  the  light-armed,  naked-bodied  intruder 
who  had  for  a  time  won  the  popular  regard.  He  fell 
before  it,  and  his  own  efforts  were  neglected  and  for- 
saken by  the  admirers  of  an  unnamable  outrage  upon 
the  stage  of  any  reputable  theatre. 

Forrest's  greatest  Shaksperean  parts  were  Lear,  Othello, 
and  Coriolanus.  The  first  grew  mellow  and  rich  as  the 
actor  grew  in  years,  while  it  still  retained  much  of  its 
earlier  force.  His  Othello  suffered  with  the  dechne  of 
his  faculties,  although  his  clear  conception  of  all  he  did 
was  apparent  to  the  end  in  his  acting  of  every  one  of 
his  parts.  Coriolanus  died  with  him,  the  last  of  all 
the  Romans.  He  was  greatest,  however,  in  such  rdles 
as  Virginius,  William  Tell,  and  Spartacus.  Here  his 
mannerisms  of  gait  and  of  utterance  were  less  noticeable 
than  in  his  Shaksperean  characters,  or  were  overlooked 
in  the  rugged  massiveness  of  the  creation.  Hamlet, 
Richard,  and  Macbeth  were  out  of  his  temperament,* 
and  added  nothing  to  his  fame ;  but  Richelieu  is  said 
to  have  been  one  of  his  noblest  and  most  impressive 
performances.     He  was  in  all  things  marked  and  dis- 


156  EDWIN  FORREST. 

tinctive.  His  obtrusive  personality  often  destroyed  the 
harmony  of  the  portrait  he  was  painting,  but  in  his  in- 
spired moments,  which  were  many,  his  touches  were 
sublime.  He  passed  over  quiet  scenes  with  little  elabo- 
ration, and  dwelt  strongly  upon  the  grand  features  of 
the  characters  he  represented.  His  Lear,  in  the  great 
scenes,  rose  to  a  majestic  height,  but  fell  in  places  almost 
to  mediocrity.  His  art  was  unequal  to  his  natural  gifts. 
He  was  totally  unlike  his  great  contemporary  and  rival, 
Macready,  whose  attention  to  detail  gave  to  every  per- 
formance the  harmony  of  a  perfect  work. 

Forrest's  voice,  as  has  been  said,  was  powerful  and 
musical,  and  he  used  it  with  marvellous  effect.  He 
never  over-excited  himself  or  tired  his  listener.  He 
displayed  at  each  rising  stage  of  a  great  passion  new 
capabilities,  and  when  it  seemed  that  his  wonderful 
strength  could  bear  no  more,  he  electrified  his  audiences 
by  a  greater  and  still  more  powerful  outburst  of  elo- 
quence. His  tenderness  lay  in  the  tones  of  his  voice, 
the  almost  womanly  sweetness  of  his  utterance.  His  grief 
was  manly,  never  maudlin  or  soulless.  His  presence  was 
commanding  and  impressive  beyond  that  of  any  actor 
of  his  time.  During  his  life  he  was  surrounded  by  imi- 
tators, who  caught  only  the  imperfections,  the  outward 
manner  of  the  man  ;  but  he  founded  no  school,  he  cre- 
ated no  style  of  acting  by  which  his  followers  might  per- 
petuate his  methods ;  and,  take  him  for  all  in  all,  we 
shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again. 

The  great  actor  sleeps.  He  has  gone  to  his  last 
account,  leaving  behind  him  a  noble  charity  for  his 
brothers'  good,  which  he  failed  to  perfect  before  he 


EPILOGUE.  157 

died ;  and  a  fame  such  as  no  American  may  hope  to 
rival  in  our  generation,  the  fame  of  a  life-work,  if  not 
altogetlier  well  done,  still  done  as  best  his  nature  or- 
dered :  a  reputation  for  noble  manliness  of  puqjose,  for 
loyalty  of  soul.  Personally  and  professionally,  he  was 
the  giant  of  the  native  American  stage. 

This  memoir  may  fitly  close  with  an  illustrative  anec- 
dote of  the  great  actor.  Towards  the  end  of  his  pro- 
fessional career  he  was  playing  an  engagement  at  St. 
Louis.  He  was  very  feeble  in  health,  and  his  lameness 
was  a  source  of  great  anxiety  to  him.  Sitting  at  a  late 
supper  in  his  hotel  one  evening,  after  a  performance  of 
"  King  Lear,"  with  his  friend,  J.  B.  McCuUough,  of  the 
Globe  Democrat,  that  gendeman  remarked  to  him,  "  Mr. 
Forrest,  I  never  in  my  life  saw  you  play  Lear  so  well  as 
you  did  to-night."  Whereupon  the  veteran  almost  in- 
dignantly replied,  rising  slowly  and  laboriously  from  his 
chair  to  his  full  height,  "Play  Lear!  what  do  you 
mean,  sir?  I  do  not  play  Lear /  I  play  Hamlet, 
Richard,  Shy  lock,  Virginius,  if  you  please ;  but,  by 
God,  sir!  I  am  Lear!^' 

Nor  was  this  wholly  imaginative.  Ingratitude  of  the 
basest  kind  had  rent  his  soul.  Old  friends  were  gone 
from  him,  new  friends  were  but  half-hearted.  His  hearth- 
stone was  desolate.  The  public  to  whom  he  had  given 
his  best  years  was  becoming  impatient  of  his  infirmities. 
The  royalty  of  his  powers  he  saw  by  degrees  torn  from 
his  decaying  form.  Other  kings  had  arisen  on  the  stage, 
to  whom  his  old  subjects  now  showed  a  reverence  once 
all  his  own.    The  mockery  of  his  diadem  only  remained. 


158  EDWIN  FORREST. 

A  wreck  of  the  once  proud  man  who  had  despised  all 
weaknesses  and  had  ruled  his  kingdom  with  imperial 
sway,  he  now  stood  alone.  Broken  in  health  and  in 
spirit,  deserted,  forgotten,  unkinged,  he  might  well  ex- 
claim, "I  am  Lear  !  " 


INDEX. 


Academy  of  Music,  Philadel- 
phia, 141. 

Actors'  Home,  Springbrook, 
Pa.,  93,  146. 

Addams,  Augustus,  early  rival 
of  Forrest,  2,  46. 

^schinus,  149, 

/Eschylus,  149. 

Africa,  50. 

Albany  Advertiser,  130. 

Albany,  N.  Y.,  Forrest's  first 
appearance  there,  39,  40; 
mention,  126. 

Albany  Theatre,  39. 

Alger,  Wm.  R.,  biographer  of 
Forrest,  quotations  from  his 
work,  83,  86,  92,  128 ;  his 
account  of  Forrest's  death 
and  burial,  144. 

American  Dramatic  Fund,  its 
organization,  79. 

American  Theatre,  New  Or- 
leans, 34. 

Angela,  Michael,  148. 

Arch  Street  Theatre,  Phila- 
delphia, 68. 

Asia  Minor,  50. 

Aspinwall,  11 1. 


Astor  Place  Opera  House,  New 

York,  70. 
Astor  Place  Riot,  58  etseq.,  153. 


Baker,  Mr.,  53. 

Ball,    Thomas,    sculptor,     his 

statue  of  Forrest  as  Coriola- 

nus,  92,  137. 
Baltimore,  Md.,  41,  no. 
Barrett,  Lawrence,  96 ;  his  per- 
sonal relations  with  Forrest, 

104,  125. 
Barry,  Thomas,  89. 
Bartley,  Mr.,  53. 
Bates,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John,  74. 
Becher,  Lady  (Miss  O'Neil),  60. 
Becks,  George,  100. 
Beethoi'en,  149. 
Betterton,    Thomas,  4,   50;  his 

reputation  as  a  man,  150  et 

seq. 
Biddle,  Nicholas,  57. 
Bird,  Dr.  Robert  M.,  author  of 

the  "  Gladiator,"  54,  135. 
"  Black  Crook,"  106. 
Blackfriar's  Theatre,  London 

(old),  5. 


i6o 


INDEX. 


Booth,  Barton,  4. 

Booth,  Edwin,  his  appearance 
in  New  York  as  a  rival  to 
Forrest,  97,  98;  mention, 
loi,  115,  117,  125. 

Booth,  yunius  Brutus  (the  el- 
der Booth),  3,  59,  60,  64,  80, 
98,  loi,  115,  130. 

Booth,  Mrs.  J.  B.  Jr.,  loi. 

Booth's  Theatre,  New  York, 
124. 

Boston,  Mass.,  47,  69,  100,  loi, 
no;  Forrest's  last  regular 
engagement  there,  128,  129, 
140;  his  last  reading  and  last 
public  appearance,  142. 

Boucicault,  Dion,  97. 

Bowers,  Mrs.  D.  P.,  104. 

Bowery   Theatre,  New  York, 

41.  42,  135- 

Bowie,  Col.  James,  his  acquaint- 
ance with  Forrest,  35,  36. 

Bradbury,  Captain,  plays  a  joke 
on  Forrest,  iii  et seq. 

Brindal,  Mr.,  53. 

Broadway  Theatre,  New  York, 
70,  83,  85,  89,  137. 

"  Broker  of  Bogota,"  80. 

Brooke,  Gu stave  V.,  91. 

Brougham,  John,  91,  96. 

Brougham's  Lyceum,  91. 

"  Brutus  "  (Payne's),  37. 

Bryant,  Wm.  C,  48,  76,  87. 

Buffalo,  N.  Y.,  126. 

Bulwer-Lytton,  Sir  Edward,  61, 
62,  152. 

Burbage,  Richard,  5,  50;  little 
known  of  his  non-profes- 
sional life,  150,  151. 

Burden,  Jesse  R.,  145. 

Burnett,  J.  C,  100. 


Burton,    Wm.  E.,  his  Autoly 

cus,  96. 
Burton's  Theatre,  New  York, 

95- 


C^SAR,  Julius,  150. 

Caldwell,  James  H.,  Forrest's 
manager,  32.  34>  35.  37,  S^-^ 

California,  Forrest's  visit  to'  it, 
107  et  seq. ;  its  beautiful  sce- 
nery, 118. 

Cameron,  Simon,  20. 

"  Camille,"  97. 

Cargill,  Mr.,  26,  27. 

Cargill,  Mrs.,  26. 

Carpenter,  Edwin  A.,  14. 

Channing,  PVm.  E.,  9. 

Charles  II.  of  England,  3. 

Charleston,  S.  C,  37,  no. 

Chatham  Theatre,  New  York, 
132. 

Chester,  John,  99. 

Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  Phil- 
adelphia, 57,  100,  104. 

Chicago,  111.,  87 ;  Forrest's 
marvel  at  its  growth,  1 10, 1 1 1. 

Childs,  George  W.,  145. 

Chippendale,  Wm.  H.,  52,  91. 

Charley,  Henry  F.,  his  criti- 
cism on  Forrest's  Lear,  133. 

Cicero,  151. 

Cincinnati,  Ohio,  17,  21 ;  For- 
rest's debut  there,  24  et  seq., 
29 ;  mention,  126. 

Clarke,  John  H.,  52. 

Cleveland,  Ohio,  126. 

Cohasset,  Mass.,  loi. 

"  Colley  Gibber  "  (James  Rees), 
friend  and  biographer  of 
Forrest,  79,  94,  123,  143. 


INDEX. 


I6l 


Collier,  Jeremy,  151. 

Collier,  J.  W.,  100. 

Collins  dr*  Jones,  Forrest's  early 
managers,  17,  28. 

Columbia  Street  Theatre,  Cin- 
cinnati, 34. 

Columbus,  Ohio,  126. 

Congdon,  Charles  T.,  criticism 
on  Forrest's  acting,  135. 

Congreve,  Win.,  dramatist,  61. 

Conrad,  Robert  T.,  57. 

Constantinople,  50. 

Conway,  Frederick  B.,  89,  99. 

Conway,  Mrs.  F.  B.,  99. 

Conway,  fV/n.  Augustus,  For- 
rest supports  him,  36,  37 ;  his 
death,  37  ;  mention,  43,  130. 

Cooke,  George  Frederick,  4,  40, 

S3.  92. 

Cooper,  Mr.  (English  stock 
actor),  53. 

Cooper,  Thomas  Apthorpe,  For- 
rest's acting  said  to  have 
been  based  upon  his  style, 
4;  mention,  43,  46,  52,  64, 
130. 

"  Coriolanus,"  137,  138,  155; 
Ball's  statue  of  Forrest  in 
that  character,  92,  137. 

Croly,  Rev.  John  (biographer 
of  George  IV.),  marries  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Forrest,  74. 

Crosby's  Opera  House,  Chica- 
go, no. 

Cuskman,  Charlotte,  supports 
Forrest,  52  ;  mention,  96. 


"Damon  and  Pythias,"  51, 
52.  53.  83,  89,  99,  109,  124, 
136, 137- 


"  Dandyism,"  26. 

Davenport,  Edwin  L.,  Forrest's 
quarrel  with,  89,  90;  men- 
tion, 91,  95;  reception  of  his 
Ilamlet  in    San    Francisco, 

"5- 
Davis,  Mr.,  26,  27. 
Dayton,  Ohio,  28. 
Dean,  Julia,  1 1 5. 
Demosthenes,  150. 
Detroit,  Mich.,  126. 
Dickens,  Charles,  61,  152. 
"  Don  Quixote,"  27. 
Dougherty,  Daniel,  90,  145. 
"  Douglas,"  14,  20. 
Drury  Lane  Theatre,  London, 

'iZ^  54.  55- 
Duff,  Thomas,  89. 
Dunlop,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  74. 
Duruset,  Mrs.,  53. 

Eaton,  Charles,  2,  47. 

Eberle,  Mr.,  26,  27. 

Eddy,  Edward,  41. 

Edinburgh,  Forrest  hisses  Mac- 
ready  at,  65,  67,  69. 

Edwin  Forrest  Home  (Actors' 
Home  at  Springbrook),  93, 
146. 

Fisher,  Charles,  96, 99. 

Fisher,  Clara  (Mrs.  Maeder),9l. 

Florence,  Wm.  J.,  91,  no. 

Fonthill  (Forrest's  Castle  on 
the  Hudson),  its  erection, 
77,  80 ;  sold  by  Forrest,  87 ; 
mention,  92. 

Forney,  John  W.,  90,  1 45. 

Forrest,  Caroline,  sister  of  Ed- 
win, 8;  her  death,  125. 


l62 


INDEX. 


Forrest,  Edwin, 

condition  of  the  American 
stage  at  the  time  of  his 
debut,  2  et  seq. 

his  style  based  on  that  of 
Cooper,  4. 

plays  Hamlet  without  sce- 
nery, 6. 

his  birth,  8. 

designed  for  the  ministry,  9. 

his  remarkable  memory  as  a 
boy,  10. 

his  first  appearance  on  the 
stage,  in  woman's  dress, 
II. 

as  a  harlequin,  12. 

his  mimicry,  12. 

as  a  juvenile  amateur,  13. 

at  an  exhibition  of  oxide 
gas,  14. 

his  regular  dihut  as  Young 
Nerval,  l^  et  seq. ;  differ- 
ent accounts  of  his  age  at 
that  time,  17 ;  his  second 
part,  17. 

takes  the  Prune  Street  The- 
atre as  manager,  17. 

joins  the  company  of  Col- 
lins &  Jones,  17. 

opens  at  Pittsburg,  Pa.,  19, 
20. 

makes  the  acquaintance  of 
Simon  Cameron,  20. 

of  President  Holley,  23,  24. 

first  appearance  in  Cincin- 
nati, 24. 

dances  a  breakdown,  25. 

bill  of  his  performance  in 
Cincinnati  in  1823,  26,  27. 

hardships  he  endured,  27, 
28,  31. 


Forrest,  Edwin, 

makes  the  acquaintance  of 
General  Harrison,  28. 

kindness  of  the  Riddle  fam- 
ily to  Forrest,  29,  30,  32. 

joins  a  circus  troupe,  32. 

his  debut  in   New   Orleans, 

34- 
his  familiar  associates  there, 

33>  36- 

plays  with  the  elder  Con- 
way, 36. 

his  first  appearance  in 
Payne's  "  Brutus,"  37. 

serious  illness,  38. 

his  love  for  Jane  Placide,  38. 

debut  in  Alljany,  N.  Y.,  39, 
130. 

supports  Edmund  Kean,  39, 
40. 

returns  to  Philadelphia,  40. 

debut  in  New  York,  41. 

instant  success  at  the  Bow- 
ery Theatre,  41. 

close  of  his  stock  career,  41. 

pays  his  father's  debts,  47. 

his  successful  engagements 
through  the  country,  47, 
48. 

endeavors  to  develop  an 
American  Drama,  48. 

resolves  to  visit  Europe,  48. 

farewell  banquet  in  New 
York,  48. 

travels  and  impressions  in 
Europe,  48-51. 

returns  to  America,  51. 

plays  in  Philadelphia  and 
New  York  to  great  crowds, 
51,  52 ;  returns  to  London, 
52- 


INDEX. 


163 


Forrest,  Edwin, 
dibut  there,  53. 
cast  of  the  "  Gladiator  "  on 

his  opening  night,  53. 
opinion  of  the  London  Times, 

54- 

Wikoff's  account  of  his  di- 
but, 55. 

banciuet  at  the  Garrick  Club, 
56. 

meets  Miss  Catherine  Sin- 
clair, 56. 

again  in  America,  57. 

banquet  at  Philadelphia,  57. 

at  the  summit  of  his  fame 
and  fortune,  57. 

his  first  acquaintance  with 
Macready,  64. 

his  reception  in  London  in 
1845,  65- 

charges  Macready  with  de- 
signs to  drive  him  from 
the  British  stage,  65. 

hisses  Macready  in  Edin- 
burgh, 65. 

back  in  America,  66. 

death  of  his  mother,  67. 

his  wordy  quarrels  with  Mac- 
ready,  67,  70. 

his  card  to  the  Philadelphia 
papers,  63. 

the  riot  in  Astor  Place,  70, 72. 

his  marriage,  73,  74. 

domestic  life,  75  <"/  seq. 

reads  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  79. 

elected  first  president  of  the 
American  Dramatic  Fund, 

79- 
at  the  head  of  his  profession 
in  America,  79,  8a 


Forrest,  Edwin, 

beginning  of  domestic  trou- 
bles, 80. 

trial  and  divorce,  81,  82. 

after  the  trial,  83. 

his  popularity  with  the  lower 
orders,  83. 

success  at  Broadway  Thea- 
tre, New  York,  83,  85. 

speech  on  the  opening  night, 
83,  84. 

quarrel  with  Chas.  O'Conor, 

85- 

effects  of  his  domestic  trou- 
bles upon  his  mind  and 
his  manners,  86,  87,  88. 

his  honor  in  his  money  deal- 
ings, 88,  89. 

successful  engagements,  89. 

home  and  home  life  in  Phil- 
adelphia, 87,  90,  92,  93, 
119,  140. 

first  appearance  of  physical 
decay,  90,  loi,  109. 

statue  as  Coriolanus,  by  Ball, 
92,  137- 

return  to  the  stage,  95  et  seq. 

his  charities,  102. 

rebuked  by  Barry  Sullivan, 
105. 

his  visit  to  California,  107 
et  seq. 

corcspondence  on  the  sub- 
ject, 107,  108. 

the  voyage  to  San  Francisco, 
1 1 1  ^/  seq. 

first  appearance  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, 116. 

ill  health,  117,  118. 

visits  the  Geysers,  117. 

return  to  Philadelphia,  1 19. 


1 64 


INDEX. 


Forrest,  Edwin, 

his  farewell  tour  through  the 
country,  1 20  et  seq. 

failing  health  and  declining 
powers,  123  et  seq. 

death  of  his  sisters,  125. 

last  regular  engagement  in 
New  York,  126,  128. 

in  Boston,  12S,  129,  143. 

various  criticisms  on  his  act- 
ing, 1 30  et  seq. 

final  readings,  141,  142. 

last  public  appearance,  142. 

his  death,  142. 

its  cause,  143. 

his  funeral,  144. 

his  will,  146. 

summary  of  his  life,  charac- 
ter, and  achievements,  1 52 
et  seq. 
Forrest,   Edwin,  Mrs.  (Cathe- 
rine N,  Sinclair), 

first  meets  Forrest,  56. 

her  beauty  and  accomplish- 
ments, 73. 

her  marriage,  73,  74. 

makes  a  pleasant  impression 
upon  her  husband's  friends 
in  America,  75. 

their  domestic  life,  7$et  seq. 

beginning  of  the  troubles,  80. 

trial  and  divorce,  81,  82. 

her  counsel,  Mr.  Charles 
O'Conor,  85. 

her  first  appearance  on  the 
stage,  and  her  professional 
career,  91,  92. 

mention,  115, 146. 
Forrest,  Eleanora,  sister  of  Ed- 
win, 8,  76,  92 ;   her  death, 

125. 


Forrest,  Henrietta,  sister  of  Ed- 
win, 8,  92. 

Fo7-resl,  Lauman,  brother  of 
Edwin,  8. 

Forrest,  Rebecca  Lauman,  moth- 
er of  Edwin,  8. 
her  strength  of  character,  9. 
her   influence   over    Edwin, 
and  his  affection  for  her, 
18,   22,  39,  41,  47,  80,  89. 
her  death,  67. 

Forrest's  Castle  (Fonthill  on 
the  Hudson),  its  erection, 
77,  80 ;  sold  by  Forrest,  87 ; 
mention,  92. 

Forrest,  Win.,  father  of  Edwin, 

8,47- 
Forrest,    Wm.,  Jr.,  brother  of 

Edwin,  8. 
Forster,   John    (biographer   of 

Dickens),    61 ;    unfavorable 

criticism  on  Forrest's  acting, 

65;  mention,  152. 
Fredericks,  IV.  S.,  52. 


Gamble,  Miss,  74. 

Garrick  Club,  London,  dinner 
to  Forrest,  56. 

Garrick,  David,  4,  14,  50,  138, 
150;  as  actor  and  man,  151. 

George  IV.  of  England,  74. 

George,  Mr.,  27. 

Geysers,  California,  Forrest's 
visit  to,  117. 

Gibson,  Chief  fustice,  57. 

Gilbert,  John,  87. 

Giles,  Mr.,  27. 

Gilfcrt,  Charles,  Forrest's  man- 
ager, 39,  41,  42. 

Girard  Bank,  Philadelphia,  8. 


INDEX. 


165 


Girard,  Stephen,  8. 

"Gladiator,"  original  cast  in 
London,  53;  mention,  48, 
54.    56.    99.    '26,   131,   135, 

»55- 

Gladstatu,  Mrs.  Mary,  1 00. 

Globe  Theatre,  Boston,  128, 
140. 

Globe  Theatre,  Cincinnati,  26. 

Godwin,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parke, 
76,  87. 

Goldsmith,  Olri'er,  13. 

Graham,  Captain,  his  friend- 
ship for  Forrest,  36,  38. 

Gross,  Dr.  Samuel  D.,  For- 
rest's physician,  143,  145. 


Hackett,  James  H.,  70. 
Halleck,  Fitz  Greene,  48. 
/fa  mil  in,  Thomas  S.,  42. 
Hamilton,  Ohio,  28. 
"  Hamlet,"  6,  52,  95,  99,  105, 

136,  137,  141,  150,  155,  157. 
Hanna,  Mr.,  26. 
Jlamui,  Mrs.,  26. 
Harkins,  Daniel  E.,  99. 
Harrison,  President,  28. 
Havre,  France,  48. 
Henry,  yosephine,  100. 
Henry,  Patrick,  135. 
Heron,  Matilda,  97. 
Hill,    G.   H.    (Yankee    Hill), 

136. 

Holiday  Street  Theatre,  Balti- 
more, 109. 

Holley,  President  Horace,  his 
good  advice  to  Forrest,  23, 
24. 

Hooper,  Mr.,  53. 

Hooper,  Mrs.,  54. 


Honner,  Mr.,  54. 
Horner,  yohn,  14. 
Houston,  Texas,  126. 
Huddart,  Miss,  54. 


Independent  Press,  Cincin- 
nati, 25. 
Ingersoll,  Daz'id,  2,  15,  46. 
Ingersoll,  J.  A'.,  57. 
Ingraham,  D.  R.,  48, 
Irving,  Henry,  63. 


"  Jack  Cade,"  48,  99. 

Jaekson,  Dr.  Samuel,  57. 

yefferson,  yoseph  (2d),  4. 

yefferson,  yoseph  (2d),  Mrs. 
(Miss  Fortune),  16. 

yefferson,  yoseph  (4th),  his  re- 
ception in  San  Francisco, 
115. 

yerrold,  Douglas,  criticism  of 
Forrest's  Lear,  132. 

"  Jessie  Brown,"  97. 

yohnson,  Samuel,  36. 

yones,  miliam  (Collins  & 
Jones),  17,  28;  Forrest's 
kindness  to  him  in  his  old 
age,  88. 

"Julius  Caesar,"  125,  130. 


Kansas  City,  126. 

Kean,  Charles,  63,  15 1. 

Kean,  Edmund,  Forrest  sup- 
ports him  in  Albany,  39;  his 
effect  upon  Forrest,  40,  43 ; 
mention,  4,  14,  17,  50,  59,  63, 
92,  130,  133,  150. 

Keats,  yohn,  149. 


i66 


INDEX. 


Keene,  Laura,  115. 

Kemhle,  Charles,  56. 

Kemble  Family,  4,   15,  43,  51, 

59.  151- 

Kcnible,  Fanny,  Mrs.,  135,  137. 

Kemble,  John  P.,  92,  i ^t^,  i  38, 

139- 
"  King  Lear."    See  "  Lear." 
Klopstock,  Frederic  G.,  149. 
Knowles,  James  Sheridan,  49. 


"  Lady  of  Lyons,"  80,  91. 

Lafayette,  General,  37. 
Lamb,  Edward,  100. 
Lawson,  James,  42,  87,  145. 
"I^ar,"  52,   53,  99,   126,   127, 
128,  129,  132,  133,  135,  137, 

155.  156,  157,  158- 

Lebanon,  Ohio,  28. 

Liggett,  William,  42,  48,  75, 
123. 

Le7vis,  S.  K,  14. 

Lexington,  Ky.,  17,  22,  23,  24. 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  154. 

Lind,  Jenny,  116. 

London,  England,  46,  51,  52, 
65,  66,  69. 

London  Times,  46,  54,  68. 

Longfelloiv,  Henry  IV.,  his  ad- 
miration of  Forrest's   Lear, 

135- 
Los  Angelos,  Cal.,  118. 
Louis  Philippe,  49. 
Louisville,  Ky.,  29. 
"Lover's  Vows,"  17. 
"  Love's  Sacrifice,"  91. 
Lucas,  Mr.,  27. 
Lyceum   Theatre,  New   York 

(14th  Street),  126. 
Lynne,  Henry,  91. 


"  Macbeth,"  53,  (i-^,  70,  89,  99, 

"7.  134,  135- 
Maclay,   Hon.  William  B.,  his 
criticism  on  Forrest's  acting, 

137- 
Macready,  William  (the  elder), 

58. 
Macready,  William  Charles,  3, 

50.  56- 

sketch  of  his  life,  58. 

his  character  and  disposi- 
tion, 59,  63. 

his  influence  on  the  English 
stage,  61,  63. 

his  talents  as  an  actor,  62. 

his  first  appearance  in  Amer- 
ica, 64. 

his  first  acquaintance  with 
Forrest,  64. 

attends  the  marriage  of  For- 
rest, 64. 

second  visit  to  America, 
64. 

rupture  of  social  intercourse 
with  Forrest  in  London  in 
1845,  65. 

is  hissed  by  Forrest  in  Edin- 
burgh, 65. 

his  account  of  the  incident 
in  his  Diary,  66. 

third  visit  to  America,  67. 

his  wordy  quarrel  with  For- 
rest, 67-70. 

the  culmination  at  the  riot 
in  Astor  Place,  New  York, 
70,  71. 

friend  of  the  Sinclairs,  73. 

at  Mrs.  Forrest's  receptions 
in  London,  81,  82. 

his  friends  in  America,  82, 
91. 


INDEX. 


167 


Macready^  William  Charles, 
mention,  104,  105,  IC36,  133, 

134,  156. 
his    criticism    of    Forrest's 

acting,  130,  131. 
his  social  position,  and  his 
declining  years,  152. 

AfaedeTy  Mrs.  (Clara  Fisher), 
91. 

Miiguire,  Mr.,  108. 

Afars,  Mile.,  49. 

Marshall,  Chief  Jtistice,  37. 

Marshall,  Miss  (English  stock 
actress),  54. 

Alason,  diaries  Kemble,  91. 

Mason,  yohn,  52. 

Mason,  Airs.  (Emma  Wheat- 
ley),  i6. 

Mathews,  Charles  y.,  96. 

Alatthews,  Air.  (English  stock 
actor),  53. 

Alatthews,  T.  (English  stock 
actor),  54. 

Maysville,  Ky.,  22. 

Alayiuood,  Airs.  (Mrs.  H.  A. 
Williams),  16. 

Alaywood,  Robert  C,  4. 

AIcArdle,  Joseph,  Forrest's 
agent,  lit,  112. 

AtcCullough,  J.  B.,  editor  of  St. 
Louis  Globe-Democrat,  157. 

AlcCullough,  John,  late  for  re- 
hearsal, 103,  104;  supports 
Forrest,  100,  1 1 1 ;  plays  a 
practical  joke  on  Forrest, 
112  et  seq. 

Afc Michael,  Morton,  57,  90. 

Alears,  Air.  (English  stock  ac- 
tor), 54. 

Memphis,  Tenn.,  1 26. 

"Merchant  of  Venice,"  157. 


"  Metamora,"  suggested  by 
Push-ma-ta-ha,  36,  38;  men- 
tion, 48,  52,  80,  99,  131,  132, 

136.  155- 

Metropolitan  Theatre,  New 
York,  96. 

Moray,  John  S.,  127. 

Alorris,  Robert,  57. 

Af orris,  Thomas  £.,  100. 

AIoscow,  50. 

"Mountaineers,"  17,  37, 

Mount  Auburn  Cemetery,  Cam- 
bridge, Mass.,  30. 

"  Much  Ado  About  Nothing," 
91. 

Murdoch,  James  E.,  2,  15,  91, 
115;  criticism  on  Forrest's 
acting,  134. 

Alurray,  Mr.,  Macready's  man- 
ager, 66. 


Naples,  50,  no. 
Napoleon  I.,  49. 
Nashville,  Tenn.,  126. 
New   Orleans,    La.,   Forrest's 
dibut  there,  34 ;  mention,  32, 
34,37,38,  no,  126. 
Newport,  Ky.,  30. 
New    York,     Forrest's    dibut 
there,  41. 
mention,  38,  47,  48,   51,  52, 
64,  69,  78,  84,  89,  95,  97, 
99,  100,  102,  no,  ni,  126, 
128,  140,  141. 
his  last  professional  engage- 
ment there,  126-128. 
his  last  reading,  141. 
New  York  Herald,  143. 
Niblo's  Garden,  New  York,  95, 
99,  100. 


INDEX. 


Nixon,  yames,  Forrest's  mana- 
ger, 95,  99. 
NoaA,  M.  M.,  130. 
Norfolk,  Va.,  37. 


Oakes,  James,  beginning  of 
his  friendsiiip  with  Forrest, 
47 ;  mention,  76,  79,  87,  92, 
93,  loi,  no,  118,  126,  142, 
145. 

O'Brien,  William  (actor),  74. 

O'Conor,  Charles,  opposed  to 
Forrest,  85. 

Omaha,  126. 

O'Neil,  Miss  (Lady  Becher), 
60. 

"  Othello,"  36,  41,  52,  53,  99, 
134,  137.  142,  150.  154.  155- 


Page,  Col.  James,  57,  145. 
Panama,  in. 
Paris,  France,  48,  no. 
Parker,  Mrs.  Amelia,  96. 
Park  Theatre,  New  York,  41, 

52,  137- 
"Patrician's  Daughter,"  91. 
Payne,  John  Harvard,  34,  37. 
Pericles,  82. 
Petersburg,  Va.,  37. 
Phelps,  H.  R.,  quotation  from 
his  "  Players  of  a  Century," 
130. 
Philadelphia,     Pa.,     Forrest's 
birthplace,  8. 
mention,  40,   51,   52,  57,  64, 
67,  76,  87,  90,  99,  100,  104, 
108,   no,   n9,    126,    140, 
142,  143. 
his  last  reading  there,  141. 


Philadelphia      Pennsylvanian, 

'  68. 

Pihnore,  Father  (Dr.  Joseph), 
10. 

Piozzi,  Hester  Lynch  (Mrs. 
Thrale),  37. 

Pittsburg,  Pa.,  17,  19,  20,  21, 
126. 

Placidc,  Henry,  52. 

Placide,  Jane,  Forrest's  early 
love  for  her,  38. 

Polycrates,  81. 

Ponisi,  Mme.,  89,  99,  100. 

Pope,  Alexander,  151. 

Pope,  Charles,  89. 

Porter,  Charles  (Forrest's  ear- 
ly manager),  Forrest  plays 
for  his  benefit,  40. 

Prune  Street  Theatre,  Phila- 
delphia, 17. 

Push-ma-ta-ha  (the  original  of 
Metamora),  Forrest's  associ- 
ation with  him,  36,  38. 


QuiNCY,  111.,  126. 


Rachel,  Mile.,  49. 

Raymond,  Henry  y.,  123. 

Rees,  James  ("  Colley  Gibber  "), 
friend  and  biographer  of 
Forrest,  76,  94,  123,  143. 

Rice,  John  B.,  Forrest's  mana- 
ger, 79,  87,  no,  in. 

Rice,  Thomas  D.  ("Jim  Crow 
Rice  "),  25. 

"  Richard  III.,"  17, 99,  134, 155, 

157- 
Richardson,  Mrs.  (Mrs.  Chap- 


man), 52. 


INDEX. 


169 


"Richelieu,"  80,  85,  99,  116, 
126,  129,  137,  140,  155. 

Richitti^s,  Peter,  52. 

Richmond,  Va.,  37. 

Riddle  Family,  Forrest's  inti- 
macy with,  29,  30,  32. 

Riddle,  Miss,  26,  27. 

Riddle,  Miss  (Mrs.  W.  H. 
Smith),  Forrest's  deep  re- 
gret at  her  death,  30. 

Riddle,  Mrs.,  27. 

Rochester,  N.  Y.,  126. 

Rogers,  Samuel,  1 52. 

Roscius,  150. 

Rousseau,  y.  y.,  62. 

Ryder,  Air,  (Macready's  mana- 
ger), 61,  66. 

Rynders,  Capt.  Isaiah,  83. 


Sacramento,  Cal,  107,  118. 
San  Francisco,  Cal.,  no,  1 1 1. 

its  society,  114. 

its  critical  theatre-going  pop>- 
ulation,  1 15. 

Forrest's  welcome  there,  1 16. 

his   first    appearance  there, 
116,  117,  120. 
"  School  for  Scandal,"  91. 
Scott,  Gen.  Winfield,  34, 
Scott,  yames  M,  26,  27, 
Scott,  yohn  R.,  early  rival  of 

Forrest,  2,  46. 
Scott,  yohn  R.,  Mrs.,  loo. 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  138. 
Sedley,  Henry,  127. 
Setchell,  Daniel,  96. 
Seventh  Regiment,  New  York, 

71. 
Shakspere,  6,  31,  37,  50,  56,  89, 

95.  99.  »oo.  106,  107,   124, 


127.  131.  133.  136.  143.  150. 

151. 
Sharfe,  Mrs.,  52. 
Shewell,  L.  R.,  100. 
"  She  would  be  a  Soldier,"  130. 
Sinclair,     Catherine    N.      See 

Mrs.  Edwin  Forrest. 
Sinclair,  yohn,  father  of  Mrs. 

Forrest,  64,  73,  78. 
Skerrett,  Mrs.,  91. 
Smith,     Solomon    (the    elder), 

Forrest's  early  manager,  32, 

Smith,  Mrs.  W.  H.  (Miss  Rid- 
dle), 30. 

"  Soldier's  Daughter,"  24,  37. 

Sophocles,  149. 

Stark,  yames,  1 1 5,  117, 

Steinway  Hall,  New  York,  141. 

Stephenson,  Andreiv  (American 
Minister  to  England),  56, 
74- 

St.  Louis,  Mo.,  123,  126,  157. 

Stone,  yohn  Augusttis,  136. 

St.  Paul's  Church,  Covent  Gar- 
den, London,  Forrest's  mar- 
riage in  it,  73. 

St.  Paul's  Church,  Philadel- 
phia, Forrest  buried  in  its 
vaults,  145. 

Strongways,  Lady  Susan,  wife 
of  O'Brien,  the  actor,  74. 

Stuart,  William,  manager  and 
critic,  127. 

Sullivan,  Barry,  plays  at  For- 
rest, 104,  105. 

Sweeney,  Mr.  (American  actor), 

27. 
Swift,   yohn,    Forrest's    early 

friend,  14,  18,  57. 
Syracuse,  N.  Y.,  126. 


I/O 


INDEX. 


"  Tailor  in  Distress,  26. 
Talfourd,  Sergeant  Thomas  N., 

56,  61,  152. 
Talma,  Forrest  places  a  wreath 

upon  his  tomb,  49. 
Taylor,  Barry,  Forrest's  early 

friend,  47. 
Tell,    William,  Forrest    visits 

Tell's  country,  49. 
Tennyson,  Alfred,  152. 
Theatres, 

Academy   of    Music,   Phila- 
delphia, 14X. 
Albany  Theatre,  39. 
American  Theatre,  New  Or- 
leans, 34. 
Arch  Street  Theatre,  Phila- 
delphia, 68. 
Astor  Place  Opera  House, 

New  York,  70. 
Blackfriar's    Theatre    (old), 

London,  5. 
Booth's  Theatre,  New  York, 

124. 
Bowery  Theatre,  New  York, 

41,  42,  135- 
Broadway     Theatre,     New 
York,    70,     83,    85,    89, 

Brougham's    Lyceum,   New 

York,  91. 
Burton's  Theatre,  New  York, 

95- 

Chatham  Theatre,  New 
York,  132. 

Chestnut  Street  Theatre, 
Philadelphia,  57,  100,  104. 

Columbia  Street  Theatre, 
Cincinnati,  24. 

Crosby's  Opera  House,  Chi- 
cago, no. 


Theatres, 

Drury  Lane  Theatre,  Lon- 
don, 53,  54,  55. 

Globe  Theatre,  Boston,  128, 
140. 

Globe  Theatre,  Cincinnati, 
26. 

Holiday  Street  Theatre,  Bal- 
timore, 109. 

Lyceum  Theatre,  New  York, 
126. 

Metropolitan  Theatre,  New 
York,  96. 

Niblo's  Garden,  New  York, 

95,  99,  IOC. 

Park   Theatre,   New   York, 

41,  52.  ^37- 

Prune  Street  Theatre,  Phila- 
delphia, 17. 

Steinway  Hall,  New  York, 
141. 

Tremont  Temple,  Boston, 
142. 

Wallack's  Theatre,  New 
York  (old),  95,  96,  97. 

Walnut  Street  Theatre,  Phil- 
adelphia, 14,  51,  104. 

Winter  Garden,  New  York, 

95- 
Thrale,  Mrs.  Henry  (Mme.  Pi- 

ozzi),  37. 
Tremont  Temple,  Boston,  142. 
Troy,  N.  Y.,  126. 
"  Twelfth  Night,"  96. 

Utica,  N.  Y.,  126. 

Vandenhoff,  George,  91  ; 
criticism  of  Forrest's  acting, 
132. 


INDEX. 


171 


Venice,  Italy,  50. 
"  Venice  Preserved,"  34. 
"  Virginius,"  155,  157. 
Voltaire,  61. 


Walcot,  Charles  (Sen.),  91. 
Wallack,  James   W.  (Jr.),  his 

versatility  and  genius,  96. 
Wallack,  James  W.  (Sen.),  80, 

89,  91,  95. 
Wallack,  Lester,  96. 
Wallack's  Theatre,  New  York, 

95.  96,  97- 

Walnut  Street  Theatre,  Phila- 
delphia, 14,  51,  104. 

Warde,  Mr.  (English  actor),  53. 

Warren,  William  (Jr.),  16,  79. 

Warren,  William  (Sen.),  4,  14, 
16. 

Washington,  D.  C,  41. 

Webb,  Charles,  2,  47. 

Wells,  Mary,  100. 

Wemyss,  Francis  C,  criticism 
of  Forrest's  acting,  134. 

Westminster  Abbey,  74. 

Wetherell,  Col.  John  B.,  57. 

Wetmore,  Prosper  M,  41. 

Wheatley,Emma  (Mrs.  Mason), 
16. 


Wheatley,  Frederick,  16. 

Wheatley,  William,  16,  1 00. 

White,  Lemuel  C,  teaches  For- 
rest elocution,  14,  15. 

Wikoff,  Henry,  his  account  of 
Forrest's  English  dibut,  55 
his  account  of  Forrest's  mar- 
riage, 73. 

Williams,  Mrs.  H.  A.  (Mrs. 
Robert  May  wood),  16. 

"  William  Tell,"  131,  155. 

»/7//j,  N.  P.,  76. 

Wilmington,  Delaware,  141. 

Wilson,  Alexander  (the  orni- 
thologist), early  friend  of 
Forrest's,  18. 

Winter  Garden,  New  York,  95. 

"  Winter's  Tale,"  95. 

Winter,  William,  127. 

Winthrop  House,  Boston,  loi. 

Wood,  Mrs.  John,  1 1 5. 

Wood,  William  B.,  4,  14 ;  gives 
cast  of  Forrest's  dibut,  16, 

17- 
Woodhull,  Jacob,  Forrest  plays 
for  his  benefit,  41. 


YONKERS,  N.  Y.,  85. 
Young,  Charles,  59. 


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